House of Light
by 22 Umbrellas
Summary: Three years ago, Lux suffered a stroke that left her permanently blind in both eyes. This is the story of how she finally finds her way home. AU. Lux/Tasha and Lux/Bug, eventually Lux/Cate/Baze/Ryan and Lux/Eric.
1. Prologue

Summary: Three years ago, Lux suffered a stroke that left her permanently blind in both eyes. This is the story of how she finds her way home. AU, eventually Eric/Lux and Cate/Baze/Lux.

A/N: The premise of this story is 100% inspired by the film _Mother and Child_. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. Britt Robertson has a small role as a blind girl named Violet, who befriends Naomi Watts' character. I first watched it a few days after the LUX finale aired and I was struck by the similarities between the film and the show. Of course there are the obvious themes of adoption and parent/child reunions running through both, but there were minor things as well, such as Britt's character saying that her mother worried she would never "find her way" and wanted her to work in radio someday. Anyway, the last thing I should be doing right now is starting a new story, but the film was so beautifully written and beautifully acted, and I haven't been able to get it or this idea out of my mind since.

Disclaimer: LUX is Liz Tigelaar's baby, the same way that Mother and Child is Rodrigo Garcia's baby. I'm just babysitting these characters that I have grown to love almost as much as my own.

* * *

**Prologue**

_For my thirteenth birthday, Valerie gives me a lamp shaped like a miniature house. It looks hand-painted and expensive, and up close the detail of each individual brick is enough to bring tears to my eyes. I've never owned anything so nice._

_When she turns the lamp on, light comes shining out every little window, like magic. "So you can always look at it and remember that you have a place to call home now," she says, smiling at me. "Happy birthday, Lux."_

_Hours later, after getting ready for bed, I take one last look at the house on my nightstand before flipping the switch and blanketing the room in darkness._

_A thin strip of light stays visible in the space where the door and wooden floor don't quite meet. I stare at it sometimes when I can't sleep. I stare at it and listen to the sounds of Valerie pacing around the kitchen in her slippers._

_He usually comes home late. I squeeze my eyes shut when I hear the front door open and slam behind him. I've learned to fear that sound. There is no pattern to his actions, no warning signs I can trust. Every night when I hear his footsteps approaching on the stairs, I don't know whether the sound will fade as he turns left towards the bathroom or whether they will continue on towards me._

Not tonight_, I think. _Please_. But I know it doesn't matter what I think. The sliver of light under my door changes form. I watch it distort and grow across the floor as the door slowly opens. Quickly, I close my eyes again and try not to move. After all these months, after everything, I still make believe that he'll leave me alone if he thinks I'm sleeping. I should know better by now._

_He says nothing after he comes in, only closes the door behind him, gently so it doesn't make a sound. My hands are clenched in fists by my side. It's easy to play dead. I pretend that I'm not there. I don't move until I feel his hot breath on my cheek, filled with the smell of cigarettes and cheap beer, and I sit up involuntarily. My fists open in protest as I try and push him away._

_"Don't," he says, softly, and grabs me by both wrists. Just like that, just don't, like that's all I'm worth, that one word._

_I choke down my fear. "I'm going to tell her. Right now. You better let go of me."_

_A short laugh escapes his throat. "No you won't. You know why?"_

_I don't say anything._

_"You know why?" he repeats. "I know you know why. Say it." He tightens his grip on my wrists until I can feel them start to bruise._

_"Sunnyvale. Let go of me!"_

_"Shh." His fingers relax ever so slightly. "That's right, Sunnyvale. If you say anything, your _'mom_' will send your scrawny ass back there, is that what you want?"_

_Silence. I won't give him the satisfaction of an answer, I won't._

_"This is our secret," he says. The words make bumps rise all over my skin, the way they do in the rare times that he actually comes home for dinner, when he will inevitably say something innocent to me, something like, "Pass the mashed potatoes," pairing it with a wink so subtle that I almost wonder if it didn't happen. It makes me feel dirty like a used tissue someone forgot to throw away._

_Those are the nights I lock myself in the bathroom and search the mirror for whatever it is about me—I imagine a mark on my skin that only I can't see—whatever it is that keeps him coming back. Maybe I can wash it off of me._

_He lets go of one of my arms, slowly, bringing his own hand to rest on his belt buckle. "You're not a kid anymore," he states, without any emotion. "Happy birthday, right?" And I know immediately that tonight won't be like those other nights, but I also know it won't be different in the way I hoped._

_"No," I try to say, shaking my head. "No," but the word comes out as more of a strangled cry. In the darkness, I can just make out the outline of Valerie's miniature house on the table behind him. I wish more than ever that I could leave my body._

_"I saw the cake in the kitchen." He doesn't see my right hand reaching over to the table, inch my inch. "Did you blow out all your candles?" I feel the lamp in the dark with my fingertips and my hand closes around the neck. "I hope you made a—" He doesn't finish sentence because he doesn't expect a pretend house to come smashing into his skull, pointed roof, chimney, and all. I break free from him as he clutches his head with both hands, cursing under his breath._

_"Mom!" I yell as loud as I can. "MOM!" I don't make it very far out into the hallway before he reaches me and clamps his sweaty hand over my mouth from behind._

_And I swear I see what happens next before it actually does. I see the intricate whorls in the varnished wooden steps as they appear to fly up at me. I see all those little details I never noticed in the past two years I've lived inside this house: the patterns on the floor tangling like spiderwebs around my feet._

_I see it happening, and then it actually happens and the last thing I remember is the numbness in my chest as I pitch forward down the stairs. I feel a sharp pain at the back of my head and everything turns black._

* [ * ] *

_I hear someone calling my name: "Lux. Lux." _Light. Light._ "Come back to me, Lux."_

_The voice pushes through the cloud that has wrapped itself around my brain. "Mom?" I say it with some uncertainty._

_"You had an accident," Valerie's voice says, and I can hear genuine concern filling it. "You tripped and you fell down the stairs."_

_I struggle to understand what she's saying. Something about her version of events doesn't sound quite right, but at the moment I don't care. I just want to wake up. I want to open my eyes, to see her face looking down at me as it always does when she wakes me each morning, the sunlight streaming in through the window behind her._

_But when I open my eyes, I don't see any of that. I don't see anything at all._

_"Mom?" There is panic in my voice this time, I can hear it. My hands reach blindly out and grab at fistfuls of air._

_"Lux, what's wrong?"_

_Something breaks inside me suddenly, the past comes rushing back to me in a giant wave of understanding that would knock me backward if I weren't already lying crumpled on the floor. And my mouth opens to tell her. I want to tell her everything, but I don't even know where to begin._

_Hot tears are running down my face, but I don't bother wiping them away. "I can't see the window," I finally manage to say. "Is it morning?" It's all I have the heart to say right now._


	2. Morning Madness

A/N: First of all, I want to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited, and/or subscribed to this story before it even really began. The whole thing really started from nothing, just a fleeting "what if?" scenario that ran through my mind after watching the movie. Except that my mind kept going back to it, and I finally had to write down what amounted to the "Prologue," not knowing at all where the narrative would go from there. I only hope that you won't be disappointed now that we're skipping forward to the present time period, although there will still be a few flashbacks in later chapters.

The remainder of the story is going to take the form of a playlist or soundtrack of sorts. The idea is that after Lux loses her vision, she finds comfort in and defines her life by what she is currently listening to, whether it be a radio show, a song, an audiobook, or something else. Each one will serve as the foundation for its respective chapter, which will be titled to reflect that.

* * *

"_It's half past six.  
And if you're just waking up, screw you.  
Ryan and I have been up since five."_  
- Cate Cassidy

**Morning Madness**

"Good Morninggg, Porrtlaaannnnddd!"

That familiar radio wake-up call was what finally stirred Lux from her sleep. For a while, she lay in bed without moving, allowing the remnants of last night's dream to slowly melt away from her brain. She hated unwelcome memories of the past. They wormed their way into her dreams like nighttime intruders discovering a broken latch on a window, often bringing with them an intense visual clarity that would forever be absent from her present and future.

Reluctantly, Lux sat up and clicked off the radio, her senses adjusting to the waking world. She retrieved her walking stick from the floor below her mattress and quietly made her way to the bathroom across the hall, with a change of clothes in her free hand. Luckily, it was still summer. Most of the girls didn't wake quite as early, so a line for the toilets and showers had yet to form. As it was, Lux spent far less time in the bathrooms compared to the others. It wasn't like she had any use for the mirrors that hung above the sinks, not anymore.

When she got back to her room, Lux heard the sound of someone sitting up in bed, the sound of bedsheets untangling.

"Lux, hey." From the center of the room, Tasha's sleepy voice greeted her like an ever-present safety net, waiting to catch her if she fell. Every morning, it reminded her how lucky she was to have her best friend here with her.

Lux sat back down on her own bed and set down her walking stick. "Morning, Tash."

"You sleep well?"

There was no point in telling Tasha the truth. Frankly, she just didn't want to think about it anymore. "Yeah, sure," she said instead. "You?"

"About as well as I usually do in this place." Tasha was silent for a moment before clearing her throat. "But listen, I was thinking."

"Yeah well, don't strain yourself." Lux replied, smiling to herself.

"Haha, very funny." Even if Lux couldn't see it, she knew Tasha was making a face at her. "Seriously though, you know, it's less than a week till your sixteenth birthday—"

Just the sound of Tasha's last word was enough to make Lux stiffen. Other teenage girls looked forward to their birthdays and the milestones and parties and presents that came with them. For her, the looming day was just a reminder of that night three years ago when everything changed, when the few good things in her life had toppled one by one like dominos. Besides, she could see where this conversation was going.

"Not all that emancipation crap again," Lux interrupted before Tasha could continue. "How many times do I have to tell you to drop it?"

Tasha didn't speak for a few seconds. "I don't get it," she finally said. "This is our last chance to get out of this hellhole, unless you want to wait two more years until we're eighteen. Don't you at least want a hearing?"

"A hearing? For what, so I can go make a fool of myself in front of all those people?" Lux couldn't believe that her best friend still didn't understand why she didn't want to do it anymore. "They _just_ turned you down last month. Do you honestly think they're going to approve me? I can barely get around by myself. I have no job, I have no real prospects. I mean, who would hire me right now?"

"Lux, we've been over this. You have lots of things. You have a clean record. You even have money saved up. Your grades are better than mine…" Tasha was grasping at straws. "We've been talking about this forever. I thought you wanted it as much as I did."

In another corner of the room, she heard someone else grumble and shift in bed. "Would you two shut up already? Some of us are still trying to sleep!"

"Well, I don't," Lux told Tasha, lowering her voice. They sat there in silence for what felt like a very long time. "You better head to the bathroom before everyone wakes up," she added finally, combing her fingers idly through her hair. As far as Lux was concerned, this conversation was over.

"It can wait," Tasha replied curtly. She clearly wasn't giving up. "So even if there's like the tiniest possibility that they _will_ approve you, you won't even try? Is that what you're saying?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Lux felt around on the nightstand for her portable CD player and earphones before shoving them in her pocket along with her sunglasses and grabbed the walking stick from its spot next to the bed.

Tasha's feet hit the floor as she dropped down from the top bunk of her bed. "Where are you _going_?"

"I need some fresh air," Lux said, her hand on the doorknob. "Don't follow me."

[ * ]

On the porch right outside the building, there was bench where Lux liked to sit in the mornings. It was half-hidden by the branches of a nearby tree, but spots of sunlight still came down through the spaces between leaves. Although she could no longer see it, Lux would measure the brightness of each day by the strength of the sun shining on her face. It was one of the best feelings in the world.

Placing an earbud in her right ear, she switched on the radio. It was perpetually tuned to K100, so she never had to adjust the dial. Immediately, the playful banter between the two morning show hosts, Cate Cassidy and Ryan Thomas, reached her ears through the airwaves, and she began to relax. Over the past few years, their voices had become the everlasting constant in her life. Throughout the unstable landscape of foster care, where girls were always floating in and out of group homes like ghosts, and living arrangements were always changing, Lux could always count on Cate and Ryan to be there, same time, same place, with the push of a button.

The show had started almost three years ago, shortly after she had left Valerie's house. She'd discovered it by accident one morning soon after that, and slowly the two talk jockeys grew to replace what Valerie had been to her: they woke her up from the darkness of night and brought light streaming back into her day. Sure, Cate and Ryan didn't know that she existed, and their bodies were physically on the other side of town somewhere, but their voices were what mattered. And they were voices that never pressured her to do anything she didn't want to do, they were voices that never argued with her, or called her a liar. They were just there.

"If you're just joining us on Morning Madness," Cate was saying on air, "Ryan and I are in the middle of one of our favorite games: 'Sex, Marry, Kill.'"

"That's right, Cate," Ryan confirmed. "And I believe it's my turn, so go ahead, give me your best shot."

"Okay, well, I think we're going to go with the Kates today." Cate's voice took on a mischievous tone. "You have Kate Winslet. Kate Hudson. And…Cate Blanchett."

"Wait a second, are you seriously telling me that you're giving me the Kates and _Cate Cassidy_ isn't one of my choices?" Ryan teased.

Lux knew that morning shows banked on the chemistry between their co-hosts, and that the connection was rarely a romantic one. Even so, she often imagined that Cate and Ryan were secretly a couple in real life, not just partners on the radio. And sometimes, although she had never admitted this to anyone, not even Tasha, she even fantasized that she was their daughter, that the three of them were a family. So what if Portland was a big city, and Cassidy wasn't exactly an unusual name? Every once in a while she allowed herself the luxury to pretend that it was possible.

A large grin had just started to spread across her face when her daydream was interrupted by the sound of footfalls on the concrete steps leading to the porch. They were uncertain and unevenly paced, "wandering steps," as she had come to think of them. They usually belonged to someone who was unfamiliar with the area, someone who wasn't sure where they were going. Sure enough, whoever it was tried to open the nearest door, which rattled but of course didn't budge from the frame. More footsteps followed, mostly in the same area.

Lux lowered the volume on her CD player. "Are you lost?" she called out to the stranger from her spot on the bench.

"Oh, no. I'm just—" A man's voice. Lux could tell that she had startled him. "Actually, I'm not sure," he admitted. "I'm looking for Sunnyvale Home for Girls?" His tone of voice changed as he presumably looked over and saw her for the first time. One of the few perks of being blind was not being able to see the look of sympathy that passed over their faces when they first realized why you weren't looking them in the eye. With her shades on though, she wasn't certain if he had figured it out yet.

"Well, you found it," Lux said. "You have to use the front entrance though, around that corner." She pointed in the general direction. "They keep this door locked from the outside."

"I probably should've figured that out," he mused. "Hey, thanks a lot." She heard his footsteps retreat, this time at a quicker, more confident pace than before.

After a few moments, the sound disappeared altogether, and Lux tried to return to the radio show but found herself unable to concentrate. Cate and Ryan had apparently finished playing 'Sex, Marry, Kill' and were now debating the pros and cons of public marriage proposals.

She was only halfway listening. Her mind kept returning to the porch guy. From just the voice, it was impossible to determine his age. If she had to guess, she would put him anywhere between fifteen and thirty-five, but that wasn't narrowing it down much. If it was on the younger end of the spectrum, maybe he was just some guy one of the other girls knew, but why would any of them want him to meet them here, of all places? And if his age was on the older end, maybe he was a prospective foster parent, but that seemed strange, too. Usually it would be a married couple, and they would come in together.

Lux sighed. Why was she overthinking this? Why did she even care? All kinds of people showed up at Sunnyvale all the time for an unlimited number of reasons. For months after her thirteenth birthday, the perpetual sound of approaching footsteps would actually cause her to freeze up, the way they had each night when she was living with Valerie. Sometimes, it still happened, involuntarily: a sharp current of fear that ran through her body like lightning before fading just as quickly. Even Trey had seemed nice enough when she first met him. You never knew with people.

"And what happened to Tasha, anyway?" Lux muttered aloud to herself. Yeah, she'd said, _don't follow me_, but that was usually their code for _Give me fifteen or twenty minutes to cool off, and then come find me because I can never stay mad at you for long_. They'd both been saying it for years. Tasha knew that. And now Lux had been sitting out here for over half an hour, at least.

Just then, as if in response, she heard someone push open the side door and step out. "Tasha? Speak of the—"

"Sorry, it's just me," she heard a familiar voice say, as the door shut again with a click. "The idiot from earlier," he clarified, walking towards her. "Thanks again for pointing me in the right direction. I owe you one."

"No problem," Lux said. And like a knee-jerk reaction out of her control, she offered him her right hand, outstretched so that it was level with her face. "I'm Lux, by the way."

He gave her hand a firm shake. "Eric." His palm felt surprisingly soft and smooth against hers, almost unnaturally so, like how she always imagined the skin of a baby would feel. Pure and untainted, not at all like most of the men she had known over the years. She let go. "Lux, huh?" he commented. "That's an unusual name. It's Latin, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it means—"

"—Light," he finished.

"Right." Lux laughed, embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to start rhyming."

"Hey, don't apologize for your great timing," he said, laughing too. "I loved Dr. Seuss when I was younger. There was one book in particular I would read over and over again, every day." He named a title Lux didn't recognize, but of course it rhymed, and she made a mental note of it. "I always think of it when people start talking in rhymes."

Lux smiled but didn't say anything. The air was actually cooler now than it had been before; he was blocking the direct sunlight from where he was standing, but she felt her cheeks growing hot.

"Shit, it's almost nine." His voice broke the comfortable silence they had settled into. "I'm sorry, I really gotta get going." He paused. "Nice meeting you, Lux."

"You too, Eric." She heard his footsteps again, this time descending down the stairs and along the pathway leading out into the street. It wasn't until the sound had blended into and gotten lost in the cacophony of nearby voices, chirping birds, and everyday traffic, that Lux realized she still didn't know what he'd been doing at Sunnyvale in the first place. Or whether he intended to come back in the future.

And when she thumbed up the volume dial on the radio, she discovered that the show was just coming to an end. "…On that uplifting note, that's a wrap for today, folks," Ryan was saying. "I'm Ryan Thomas, along with my clinically insane but moderately lovable co-host, Cate Cassidy. Please join us again tomorrow, same time, same place, for more Morning Madness."


	3. Give Me Something To Hold Onto

_And I've made a million wishes now  
but not a single one's come true  
Please, give me something, something to hold onto  
Give me something that links me to you_  
- Scars on 45

**3. Give Me Something (To Hold Onto)**

_I spent most of my early childhood in and out of hospitals, but I've never been in an ambulance before. When you're a kid, they seem like they might be exciting until you've actually been in one, and then you remember where they're taking you, where you're going, and you remember that no one gets into an ambulance unless their world is about to change, and usually not for the better._

_On the way to the emergency room, we hit bumps and dips in the road. Each one sends a jolt throughout my body and each one feels altogether unfamiliar even though I've probably traveled these streets a hundred times. It hits me that I might have to get used to this. That whatever happened tonight is permanent and I'll never again look out the window like any normal person and be able to see where it is I'm going or what it is I'm leaving._

_Inside the ambulance, the EMT rolls up the sleeve of my nightshirt and measures my blood pressure. "This'll just take a minute, sweetheart," a voice above me says. "Don't be scared." I feel the armband slowly tighten around my bicep like a vice, or maybe like a hand, right where _he_ sometimes grabbed me to keep me where he wanted me. No one asks about the finger-shaped bruises. They don't say, "Well now, how did you get these?" I remember where _he_ grabbed both my wrists earlier that night—though so much has happened tonight that it seems like days ago—and I wonder if the marks have begun to show. Valerie crouches beside me during the whole trip, holding my free hand in both of hers. And he stays at home, presumably in their bedroom, where he's been hiding since I came to. I haven't seen him since he threw me down the stairs. Well, I guess I haven't seen anyone since then. I wonder what he told Valerie about the gash on his head._

[ ]

_The next day, an MRI scan shows that I suffered a stroke. The doctor discusses the images on her screen with Valerie while I sit in a chair, fingering a bare thread that is unraveling from my sleeve. I catch the phrase "cortical blindness" along with a bunch of technical medically stuff I don't bother trying to understand. Apparently it has something to do with the condition I was born with, the hole in my heart they had to repair. It was the reason I spent all those years in the hospital when I was younger. It was reason I was never adopted in the first place. _

_When the doctor asks what exactly happened the night before, Valerie is quick to answer._

"_Doctor, I feel awful that I wasn't there. She tripped and fell—"_

_The doctor cuts her off. "Mrs. Gilbert, please wait. I promise that you will have every opportunity to speak later, but right now I want to hear what Lux has to say."_

_I'm silent for a few seconds, wondering what kind of story she expects to hear. I know this is my chance to come clean. I know it's my chance to let out the monster of truth that has been tugging at the corners of my mouth for months. I also know that the words won't come, not today._

"_Go on, Lux, I'm listening," the doctor prods gently, an encouraging tone in her voice. She places a reassuring hand on my knee._

_I take a deep breath and the lie tumbles out as naturally as ever. "Like Valerie said, I tripped over my own feet. I fell head first down the stairs. It was stupid." What's stupid is saying what I'm saying. I feel angrier with myself than I have been in a long time. _

"_And has this kind of thing happened before?" she asks. "Do you have a history of 'tripping over your own feet,' as you say?"_

"_Well, Doctor, I don't really think—" Valerie starts to say, but once again, the doctor silences her._

"_Not yet, Mrs. Gilbert," she warns, and the two of them sit and wait expectantly for my answer._

"_No," I finally say. "I don't. It was just a freak accident." I'm actually glad I can't look her in the eye, even if I wanted to. If I could, she would know for sure that I'm liar._

[ ]_  
_

"Hey Lux, you still with me?" A hand reached out to brush a wisp of hair away from her face and tuck the loose strands behind her ear, the intimate gesture effectively interrupting Lux's daydream.

"Sorry, I spaced," she managed to say. "I'm here now." It took Lux a few moments to realize where exactly that was. What day it was. Her sixteenth birthday. This year, it fell on a Sunday, which happened to be the only day of the week that the Morning Madness show didn't air on the radio. The day had already started out feeling incomplete, like an integral piece of the puzzle was missing, when their boyfriends arrived outside Sunnyvale at noon to give them a ride back to their apartment.

"Where were you just then?" Bug asked softly, his lips brushing against her ear. The springs of his mattress groaned from below as he sat down beside her.

Lux forced a quick smile in his direction. "Nowhere." He must have known that wasn't exactly true, but he let it go. Lux loved that about him. She loved that he understood her, that the four of them—Tasha, Bug, Gavin, and herself—were the same. They all had moments in their pasts that cast a shadow over their present. They all had parts of themselves they'd rather not talk about.

Instead, Bug placed a small, flat package in her hands, and she ran her fingers over its haphazard wrapping. "That isn't your real present," he said. "Just something I thought you'd like. Go on, open it."

"Shouldn't we wait for Tasha and Gavin to get back?" Lux protested. As soon as they had all arrived at the apartment, the two of them had promptly left again, whispering about some mysterious errand they needed to take care of.

"They won't mind," he insisted. "They both know what it is." The entire bed had begun to tremble ever so subtly and Lux knew Bug must have been jiggling his leg up and down, something he only did when he was nervous. She reached out a hand to steady it.

"What's going on?" she asked, concerned. "Why are you shaking?"

"Nothing. I'm not." Bug's bare thigh froze abruptly under her palm. "Just open the present, will you?"

Lux sighed. "If you say so." She relinquished his leg and tore at the wrapping paper with both hands until she finally freed whatever was inside. "A CD?" It seemed to be the right size, and she could feel the plastic casing with her fingertips.

"Yeah, it's a demo of Scars on 45's _Give Me Something_." Bug took the case from her hands. "Let me put it on." The mattress shifted levels again as he stood up and walked to the corner of his bedroom where the stereo sat. A few seconds later, she heard the music start, and Bug walked back to the bed.

Lux expected him to sit back down, but he didn't. He stood in front of her, not saying anything for minutes. In the background, the music continued to play. "Bug, seriously, what's going on?" she asked again. "You're scaring me."

He ignored the question. "Lux," he said slowly. "You and me, we've been through a lot together, haven't we?" He knelt down so that they were face-to-face and his voice was now coming from directly in front of her.

"Yeah, I guess we have." It was true. She and Bug had known each other since they were kids, back when he was still Bobby Guthrie, back when she—well, back when she could still open her eyes every morning to catch the sunlight coming in through the window. Tasha had first introduced the two of them in fifth grade, and in many ways, Lux still thought of him as that boy he used to be. But today, today he was acting strange. "Bug, what's this about?"

He didn't answer her directly. Instead, he took her left hand in his and held it for a few moments. Lux was acutely aware of the calluses on the pads of his fingers and the rough skin of his palm. She had always believed that you could know someone's life story when given the topography of his hands, laid out like a textured map. Not palm reading—that was New Age bullshit as far as she was concerned—but no matter who you were or what you did, the passing years left relics on your skin in the form of scars and wrinkles and imperfections. When she met someone new for the first time, she liked being able to shake his hand, read a little bit of his history as if it were written there in Braille.

And now, she had the distinct feeling that her own history was about to change as she felt a cold, metal ring sliding onto her finger. "Bug?" Her voice faltered. "Say something. Please."

The ring stopped at the junction where her ring finger met the middle one, and he held it in place for a few beats before finally letting go. "Marry me, Lux," he said.

"What?" Lux was speechless, lightheaded, and confused. She wasn't sure she had heard him correctly. "But, I mean, I just turned sixteen. I just don't think—"

"Listen, I know what you're thinking," Bug said quickly. "But we don't have to do it today or tomorrow or anything like that. This just means we have each other, you know? Nothing can mess us up."

"But you don't even have a job right now," Lux pointed out, feeling helpless. "I mean, you and Gavin are barely scraping by on his paychecks from Voodoo Donuts. We can't get _married_."

"No, that's the thing!" Bug continued, excitement brimming from his speech. "I was riding around across town a couple weeks ago and this bar out there was hiring. I went in and filled out an application, and I talked with the manager for a while. Anyway, the point is I got the job! I start next week! I didn't tell you earlier because I wanted it to be a surprise for your birthday."

"But you're not even twenty-one." Lux silently berated herself, wishing she would shut up. She knew she was ruining the moment, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't wrap her mind around this news. "Why would you go work at a bar? Why would they hire you?"

"Who cares?" Bug was clearly becoming annoyed with her arguments. "They needed someone to help out in the back. Why do I feel like I'm defending myself to you? I thought you'd be happy for me. For us."

"I am happy. I am," she insisted, reaching across the invisible bridge between them to cup his face in her hands. "I'm sorry, this is all just so sudden. Of course I want to marry you."

At those words, his face stretched wide in a smile between her hands. There was a brief moment of silence throughout the room, and then the CD repeated and the first track began again, coming in clearly through the speakers. "I want to marry you, too," Bug said. "Now get up, I know you love this song." He stood up and pulled her to her feet.

Lux wrapped her arms securely around his neck as they slow danced to the music. With her head resting against his chest, she could feel the rapid drumming of his heart, syncing up to the beat of the music like a metronome. There was something ethereally beautiful about it, as if everything in the universe was singular and connected for just this one moment. She realized then how safe and grounded she felt in his arms. It was almost like being home.

_Give me something, something to hold onto_, the lead singer crooned. _And I'll wear your wedding ring for a lifetime…_

"You know," Bug whispered into her hair, "if we got married you wouldn't have to worry so much about getting emancipated."

Lux froze in place, her feet rooting themselves into the ground. "What did you say?"

Bug laughed nervously, realizing too late that he shouldn't have said anything. "It's just that Tasha told me you were afraid they wouldn't approve you because of your situation, but if they knew you were engaged—"

"Stop talking." Lux dropped her arms and pulled away from him. "Is that what this is really about?" she demanded, holding up her left hand so he could see the ring that he had given her. "How long have you two been plotting my future behind my back? 'No' means no. Why doesn't anyone understand that?"

Her barrage of questions was met with silence. Bug seemed unsure whether it was okay for him to speak or not, but thankfully he didn't have to worry for long. Someone rapped loudly on the door, two long knocks followed by three short ones. "They're back," he said, stating the obvious. "Can we please not fight on your birthday?"

Lux said nothing in response, but she tried her best to look appropriately happy, following Bug out into the common area when he went to open the door. Bug joined Gavin who made a beeline for the kitchen counter as soon as he walked in, while Tasha gave Lux a long hug before handing her a small envelope. "Happy birthday, Lux."

"What's this?" Lux was only mildly curious. After what had just transpired, she was exhausted and honestly just wanted to lie down.

"Open it," Tasha said. "It's nothing compared Bug's present of course, but Gavin and I thought you would like it."

Feeling dubious, Lux sat down on the nearby couch and lifted the envelope flap, retrieving the two small rectangles of cardstock from inside. "Tickets?" she guessed.

"For you and Bug," Tasha explained. "You know the hometown concert that K100 puts on before the holidays every year?"

Of course Lux was more than aware of what Tasha was referring to. Around the city, everyone knew the annual show by the name "Home for the Holidays." The line-up was always made up entirely of Portland bands, and the only way to get tickets was by calling in to the station during certain contest periods. Lux had put in a good effort the last couple years but always came up empty handed. "How on Earth did you manage to score tickets this early?" she asked, hardly believing their luck. The show was still over two months away; she had barely heard a word about it yet this year.

"Never mind that," Tasha said, brushing off the question. "Do you have any idea who's gonna be there this year? We're talking about The Decemberists, Everclear, The Dandy Warhols, Glass Candy, Stars of Track and Field…" Tasha listed a slew of names off the top of her head. "Anyway, I know how much you love the K100 morning show, and Cate and Ryan are supposedly going to be there. You might even get to meet them!"

It was hard for Lux to stay angry with her best friend when she had given her such a thoughtful and amazing gift. Besides that, no matter what happened, she knew that Tasha just wanted the best for her. "Thanks so much, Tash. I love it, I really do." She had just slipped the tickets back in the original envelope when the unmistakable scent of vanilla frosting and melting wax wafted to her nostrils. "Is that what I think it is?"

"It's a cake!" Tasha, Bug, and Gavin all exclaimed at once, as if the dessert they were carrying in their hands was some miraculous new invention.

"So, it's no secret that you hate making a big deal out of your birthday," Tasha acknowledged. "But this is a special occasion. It is your sixteenth after all, and I _know_ that strawberries are your favorite." Lux heard the plastic plate meet the table as they set it down directly in front of her. The syrupy sweet smell of canned strawberries filled the air. "Now make a wish."

[ ]

"_Now make a wish," Valerie says from across the table. Her expectant face reflects the fiery light and shines in a bright, golden haze. I watch the flames twist and dance around each candle wick and think about all the wishes I made when I was younger: the letters to Santa asking for a mom and dad, the family I always believed would someday find me if I waited long enough. _

_And today I realize that maybe she isn't my birth mother, but I love her. She's going to adopt me. She's going to legally be my mother. As time passes, my faith in the other one grows weaker. She carried me inside her for nine months, then severed the umbilical cord and obviously hasn't tried very hard to find me. It's her loss. This house that Valerie has offered me is all I could ever want. Well, except for that one thing. I think of it as I blow across the cake with as much strength as I can muster._

_Valerie points to the candle in the corner that I missed. "Better get the last one or it won't come true," she says warmly. _

_I think a part of me already knows it won't, and that blowing out a flame on a candle isn't going to make a bit of difference. As much as I want to keep the illusion, it's hard for me to believe in magic the way I used to. It's hard for me to believe that I can make a wish, flip a switch, and suddenly the light will fill this house, obliterating all the spots of darkness. And I can't believe that tonight _he_ won't come home and want to cross boundaries that he shouldn't even be allowed to step near. He won't slip into my room like a phantom with his foul breath and a monogrammed belt buckle that comes undone carelessly, with the flick of a wrist. And he won't part the denim of his jeans and utter those impossible words—blow me—as casually as one would ask someone to make a wish on a birthday cake…_

[ ]_  
_

"No, I won't," Lux said, violently shaking the memory from her head. "I won't, I can't, I'm sorry." She stood up, stumbling across the room with her arms outstretched in front to steady herself through the obstacle course of walls and tables and chairs. Finally, her hands felt out the familiar entryway to the bathroom. She stepped in and locked the door behind her, breathing hard as she slid to the floor with her back against the door.

"What just happened?" She heard Gavin's bewildered voice come from the other room.

"I don't know," Tasha replied, letting her knife and fork clatter to the table. "Someone blow these out." Lux could hear footsteps approaching, even on the soft carpet. The doorknob jiggled in place above her head. "Dammit Lux, let me in!" She punctuated the command by slamming on the door with her open palms.

"Go away, Tasha."

"No, you know what? I'm not going away," Tasha said from the other side of the door. There was an air of finality in her words. "You know why? Because the three of us, we're your family, and like it or not, we're here to stay."

"I know that." Lux swallowed and wished she wasn't allowing something that happened three years ago to ruin her birthday. "You guys are the best thing I've ever had in my life, you have to know that."

"So what's been going on with you lately? Are you still mad at me for last week? Is that it? Because I already told you I didn't come after you because I thought you wanted to be alone."

Lux shook her head, forgetting that Tasha couldn't see her through the barrier that separated them. "No, really, it has nothing to do with that."

"Then what is it?" Tasha pressed. "We all care about you. If you don't want to get emancipated, fine. We'll figure something out. No one is going to force you to do anything you don't want to do."

There was a long silence. Lux touched the new band around her finger absentmindedly, twisting it back and forth. She still heard the singer's voice in her head: _Give me something to hold onto, and I'll wear your wedding ring for a lifetime…_

Beyond the door, Tasha's voice softened. "We've all been through the same crap since we were born, Lux. So you don't have to hide anything from us. You know that, right?"

Lux remembered the nights she used to lock herself in the bathroom back at Valerie's house, examining her body in the mirror, wondering what indelible marks Trey left on her skin when he used her for nothing but his own sick satisfaction. She remembered being afraid that she would walk outside and everybody would be able to see it, what he had done, in the expression on her face or in the way she walked. They would turn their faces away in disgust; they would think she had wanted it, that she had somehow asked for it.

"Lux, are you still there? Please, just talk to me."

What would happen now if she told someone the truth about that night? Wouldn't they send her away like Valerie had? Everyone had their limits, no matter what they said about loving you unconditionally. She learned that the hard way three years ago, and it was the one universal truth she always held tightly onto, until her palms were clammy, her knuckles bone-white.

* * *

A/N: Once again, I want to thank everyone for your reviews and alerts, and I'm sorry I disappeared for so many weeks. I've been really overwhelmed lately with other obligations, but I think about this story all the time and wish I had more free time to spend writing it. This chapter is kind of a downer, I know. But it was necessary to set up some of the events that'll be happening later in the story, including the next chapter, where Baze will make his first appearance! Something to look forward to until next time. :)


	4. Hunches in Bunches

A/N: I know, I know, it's been forever since the last update. There's been a lot going on, and on top of that, this chapter particularly difficult to write for whatever reason. I'm still not entirely happy with some parts, but I figured everyone would prefer me to post it as soon as possible rather than keep waiting. As always, I appreciate all your kind reviews! They are truly what keep me writing whenever I get stuck. (Sidenote, in case you're curious: at the moment, I estimate the final length of this story to be around 12-13 chapters.)

* * *

_And some Super Hunch was yelling,_  
"_Make your mind up! Get it done!  
Only _you_ can make your mind up!  
You're the one and only one!"_  
- Dr. Seuss

**4. Hunches in Bunches**

When Lux and Tasha were younger, before either of them had ever stepped foot in Valerie's house, they would sometimes lie awake after lights-out and play their favorite game, 'What's Worse?' The rules of the game were simple. One girl would start off by offering two hypothetical scenarios, and the other girl was required to choose which one she felt was worse—"I can't decide" or "they're both pretty bad" were _not_ acceptable answers—before formulating her own question. They would go back and forth like that, whispering to each other in the darkness, until one of them finally fell asleep or until one of the other girls in the room awoke and hissed, "If you two don't shut up right now, I swear…" And the two of them would only bury their faces in the pillows to muffle their laughter.

Usually the game stayed lighthearted and silly; for example, Lux might ask whether it was worse to get slammed in the face with a pie or a basketball (Tasha's incredulous response: "You're kidding, right? Basketball, duh."), and Tasha might then ask whether it was worse to eat a sheet of paper or the dinners at the Sunnyvale cafeteria (Lux: "Hmm…tough one, but I'm gonna have to go with paper. At least the food here actually has _flavor_, whatever it is.")

Other times, though, their topics grew more thoughtful and serious. Some things were just easier to talk about in the midst of total blackness.

"What's worse," Tasha suddenly whispered one night, after a particularly inane round of questions, "having a mother who gave you up before she even had a chance to know you, or having a mother who knew you for years and still gave you up?"

Lux was silent for a long time, letting the implications of the question seep into her being. "Tasha…" she finally started, not knowing what to say.

"No, forget I said that," Tasha interrupted quickly. "I don't know why I did."

"Tasha, just because your mother has done what she's done…" Lux tried again, but her friend had fallen silent and obviously didn't want to say anything more. Now Tasha was pretending to be asleep, but Lux knew the both of them would probably lay awake for the remainder of that night.

And when the sun eventually rose to brighten the new day, the remains of their conversation evaporated along with the morning dew. Neither girl ever brought the subject up again, but the shadow of a question was always there between them, unseen and untouchable.

[ * ]

On a Thursday three weeks after her birthday, Lux woke as usual to the welcome sound of her favorite Morning Madness hosts on the radio. Cate and Ryan were coming to the end of a celebrity interview when Ryan proposed a short game of 'What's Worse?' and Lux's breath caught in her throat. Just the name of that familiar game felt bittersweet against her tongue, like the foul aftertaste of sleep.

Just then, Tasha ran back into the bedroom and began to rifle through her belongings. "Remember when we used to play this all the time?" Lux asked, by way of greeting.

Tasha paused by the radio to listen. "Oh yeah!" she exclaimed in recognition. "Hey, remember that time…" She trailed off as she seemed to think better of going back there. "Crap, I'm going to be so late," she said instead and continued to go through her things. "I wish I could ditch and hang out with the three of you today."

"Tash, you already missed half the day on Tuesday." The new school year had started a couple weeks ago, and as usual, Lux was having a difficult time convincing Tasha to go to school without her. Because of her own "special needs," as the administration at Longfellow High liked to refer to her situation, Lux only traveled to the campus three times a week where she worked on her assignments with their—let's face it—poor excuse of a tutor. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, she was allowed to play catch-up outside of class through a series of recorded lectures and readings.

"I know, I gotta go." Tasha sounded reluctant. "I'll see you guys later?"

"Always," Lux said, turning her attention back to the radio as Tasha and the remaining stragglers rushed off to class.

"And now it's time for another chance to win two tickets to this year's 'Home for the Holidays' show!" Cate was saying, her voice effervescent over the airwaves. "The event is still two months away, but it is _never_ too early to get your hands on some tickets!"

"Cate's right," Ryan acknowledged, cutting in, "and I tell you what, Portland, the line-up this year is _in-cred-i-ble_. Trust me, you do not want to miss this show. We're taking caller one hundred, ladies and gentlemen!"

Lux smiled to herself as their voices disappeared and the latest Top 40 hit came on the air. She thought of the two tickets from Tasha and Gavin that she already had in her wallet. No more waiting in line to make a call from the payphone in the hall, not this year.

[ * ]

By the time Bug came around on his motorcycle two hours later, her homework was nearly finished. And when Lux wrapped her arms around his skinny waist and clasped her hands together against his abdomen, she tried to imagine spending forever with him. At sixteen years old, it was hard to even think about how the rest of her own life might unfold, much less factor someone else into the equation. Forget imagining how things would be one year into the future, or ten. She knew, better than anyone, how much life could change in a matter of seconds.

Some days, marriage seemed like an impossibility. Her doubts came and went, then inevitably came again. She couldn't shake them from her mind. There were times when he was sitting in front of her, and all she wanted was to slip his ring off her finger and place it back in his own palm. "Maybe someday," she would say, closing his fingers over the ring. "But I just can't do this now." All the same, the ring remained around her finger, day after day. Lux could never bring herself to reject him. Despite the bad timing, despite their young age, despite everything, they did love each other. And a part of her knew deep down that if she returned the ring, he would run, as he always did when pushed away. It would be the end of their relationship, not just their engagement. _What's worse_, Lux asked herself silently as the two of them tore through the streets of Portland with the wind roaring in her ears, _being tied to someone forever or losing him completely?_

"We're here," Bug said then, interrupting her thoughts for the time being. He brought the motorcycle to a full stop outside the bar where he had just started working. Reluctantly, Lux released her hold on him. "I'm just going to go in real quick," he assured her. "They want me to sign a form before my next shift. It shouldn't take long."

After freeing her head from the helmet, she was immediately hit with the coffee scent that surrounded them. It was a pungent, unmistakable smell, another classic reminder of morning and of new beginnings. "Is there a coffee shop here?" she asked.

"There's a bookstore around the corner," Bug said dismissively. "So are you going to be okay waiting out here or…?"

Suddenly, Lux remembered something. "Actually, I don't know, how big is the place?"

"What, the bar?"

"No," Lux clarified, "the bookstore."

"The bookstore?" Bug seemed confused about her line of questioning. "Um, it looks big enough. Why?"

Lux extended her walking stick to its full length and let the tip hit the sidewalk. "Could you walk me there first? There's actually something I've been looking for."

"Sure, if you want." While they walked in the direction of the coffee scent, Lux counted their steps carefully as she had grown accustomed to doing in unfamiliar places. When they had arrived safely inside the store, he said, "I better go. You wait here and I'll come get you when I'm done?"

Lux nodded. Bug brought her close, kissing her temple before he stepped back outside. In the seconds before the door closed behind him, she heard the sounds of cars rushing past on the street, birds chirping in their usual indecipherable way, and the whirring of machinery. And then it was gone. She took a deep breath, allowing the unique smell of fresh pages and hot coffee to engulf her.

"Can I help you find something?" someone asked, stopping in front of her.

Lux snapped back to attention. "Yeah, um, I'm looking for an audiobook of _Hunches in Bunches_? It's by Dr. Seuss."

"I'm not sure if we have that one, but I can certainly check for you," the man said pleasantly. "Wait here, I'll be right back." Lux nodded, her fingers reaching out to run along the smooth spines of a nearby shelf of books. He was barely gone more than a few seconds before she heard his voice again. "It's your lucky day. Only copy we have in stock!" He handed her a shrink-wrapped box. "Is that going to be all? I can ring you up right over here." She followed him to the counter where he scanned the package. "That comes out to nine dollars and thirty-nine cents," he announced.

Lux reached into her wallet for the cash. She and Tasha had devised a system to help her distinguish the different denominations, creasing each bill according to its value. Ones were folded in half length-wise, fives were folded in half the other way, and tens were dog-eared at the corners. She never carried twenties and always insisted that any change be given in ones.

The employee accepted the two folded fives from her outstretched hand, and she heard the cash register ding as it opened. "Two fives, so that's ten dollars, and your change is sixty-one cents," he said aloud, pressing each individual coin into her palm separately. "Receipt's in the bag. Have a great day."

Lux took the plastic bag he handed her by the handle. "Thanks, you too."

She waited near the door for Bug but the minutes ticked by and he never showed. Finally, she stepped out of the store, thankful that she had counted the steps on their way over. "…one, two, three…" she muttered the numbers under her breath as she walked in the direction they'd come from, her stick tapping against the concrete with each count. At twenty-two, she stopped in her tracks and reached out to feel the brick wall for a sign or a door.

For a few seconds, she recognized only the rough texture of a brick wall. But then her fingers ran along a warm metal plate fastened over the wall. A sign? She felt for raised ridges and recognized the forms as numbers. Probably the street number, she thought. "4…9…7…0…0…" she read aloud slowly. "The door has to be around here somewhere…" Her hand continued to travel to the right until she reached point where the wall ended. Finally! This had to be the right door. She pounded on it with her closed fist.

No answer at first. Lux wondered if she had the right place. She knocked again, stepping closer and putting her ear to the door, listening for any indication that someone was coming. As if in response to her request, she heard it. A male voice came dimly from inside: "Hold on, I'm coming!"

The door cracked open, and Lux felt a rush of cold air escape the building. "I don't know," the man said, directing his speech to someone inside, "the beer guy shouldn't be—Oh! Hi." She had obviously caught him by surprise. "Nevermind, it's not him!" he yelled in the other direction once again. "It's a…it's a girl scout. A…blind girl scout."

"I'm not a girl scout." Lux was indignant. A girl scout, really? Who was this guy anyway?

"Oh. Well, what do you need then?" His voice came booming from way above her as if he were some sort of giant.

She hesitated. "I'm looking for Bug?"

"Bug…?" The guy at the door sounded confused. "This is a bar. I mean—" he cleared his throat, "—it's clean."

Lux sighed. "No, sorry. Not _a_ bug. Bug. Proper noun. I guess he's going by Bobby Guthrie…?"

As if on cue, Lux heard a door slam inside, followed by Bug's voice. "She's here for me! I was supposed to meet her at the bookstore before we got sidetracked talking." He came to the door. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's cool. You ready to go?"

"Yeah." Bug joined her outside.

Lux was about to turn away when she remembered she hadn't introduced herself and stuck out her hand as she usually did. "I'm Lux, by the way."

"Baze," the man said. He clasped his hand around hers in a firm grip. "Nice to meet you."

Immediately, Lux felt disconcerted by the touch of his skin. There was something familiar about him, as if they had met before. It wasn't anything physical, not the size or shape or texture that startled her and caused her to pull back. "Nice to meet you, too," she mumbled. But she would definitely know if she had met someone named Baze before. And she was sure she hadn't.

"See you tomorrow," Bug said. The man grunted in agreement before shutting the door and like that, the moment was over.

"Baze?" Lux asked as they walked away from the building. Behind her shades, an eyebrow raised skeptically. "You're working for some guy named Baze?"

"That's what everyone calls him," Bug replied, not seeming to care one way or the other. "Maybe it's a nickname. You know, if I recall correctly you're the one engaged to this guy named Bug?" He deposited her belongings in the motorcycle compartment.

Lux grinned despite herself as they mounted they mounted the bike. "I do seem to remember that as well, yeah." Once again, she slid her arms around his torso and leaned in to him.

"And besides that, Lux is also such a normal name…"

"Fine, you made your point." She stabbed him playfully in the stomach with her heel of her hand. "Can we go now?"

[ * ]

After their date, Lux returned to Sunnyvale, eager for some time alone to listen to her new purchase. In the bedroom, she set her CD player down on the bed and tore open the audiobook package. The boxed set came with a thin volume of the text so children could follow along with the recording. She tossed that aside and snapped the disc into place in her player.

The narrative followed a boy who is bored at home alone one afternoon and can't decide what to do next. His indecisiveness didn't reminded her of the choices she herself had to make soon, but the story was full of Dr. Seuss' usual silliness and absurdity and it made her smile. It was surprising how much she could gather about Eric's personality, just knowing that this was his favorite book as a child. When she reached the end of the track, she pressed repeat.

Shortly after, Lux heard the steady rhythm of a pair of heels clicking across the tiled floor of the hall, growing louder and louder, followed by a pause and a quiet knock on the doorframe.

"Door's open," Lux called out. She didn't bother turning her head in the direction of the doorway.

The footsteps got closer, softening as the person entered the carpeted room. "Lux, it's me. There's something we need to talk about." It was Fern, her social worker. Lux knew the sound of that voice and the scent of that perfume anywhere. The comforting combination of the two was another of the few constants in her life. Fern had been amazing to her for the past two years. She was the closest thing Lux had to a mother these days.

Lux quickly untangled the headphones from her hair, letting the CD continue to spin with no one listening. "Sure, what's going on?"

Fern sat down on the next bed so that she was facing the young girl. "Lux, Tasha told me that she's been worried about you recently. Do you know any reason why she might've said that?"

Lux swallowed. "No." She took a deep breath and rushed on. "I mean, we've had a few arguments lately, but everything's fine." Since her birthday, Tasha and Bug had been so respectful of her wishes, never once speaking of a possible emancipation again, never once asking her why she had wigged out on her birthday. They weren't pressuring her to revisit it, as far as she could tell. She couldn't believe that Tasha would go behind her back now and tell Fern. "Why, what did she say exactly?"

"Not much," Fern said cautiously. "Just that your behavior has been erratic and she's concerned. She said that you wouldn't talk to her about it." She paused for a few seconds. "I have to say that I'm a little concerned about you, too."

"I'm fine," Lux insisted, too quickly. In her lap, she wound the cord of her earphones nervously around her index finger, then unwound it again. She could feel her hands trembling ever so slightly. "Really, I am."

"Sometimes it helps to talk to a stranger," Fern went on. "Someone you don't know, someone who won't judge you. Someone who can just listen to you, without any preconceived notions getting in the way."

"You mean like a shrink?" Lux spat out the last word with distaste.

"More like a guidance counselor," Fern explained. "Sunnyvale recently hired someone who has experience working with teens at the local junior high. I think you could really benefit from talking to him." Lux started to protest, but Fern interrupted her. "Mr. Daniels comes highly recommended. I just met him a few days ago myself. He's young and very compassionate. I think you would really like him."

Lux bit her lip and shook her head slowly but didn't say anything. _What's worse_, she thought to herself, _revealing all the parts of yourself you never wanted to remember again, or not having anyone to talk to at all?_

"Just one meeting," Fern tried again, her voice softening. "One. Promise me you'll give it shot, and if you don't like it we can figure something else out."

"Fine," Lux said, her mouth forming a firm line. "I'll try it once, fine." She nodded.

Fern stood up. "Great, I'll set up a meeting." She placed a comforting hand on Lux's shoulder before walking out, leaving Lux alone once more.


	5. Ocean Waves

… ^ … ^ …

.. .. ^ .. .. ^ .. .. ^ .. ..

…. ^ … ^ …

- Relaxation Collection

**5. [ Ocean Waves ]**

_When I finally tell Valerie, the conversation doesn't exactly go the way I imagined it in my head—but any moron with a pea-size brain probably sees the disappointment coming before I do. I don't have an excuse for believing it might end differently. After thirteen years in the foster care system, I should know better. _

_Call it what you want. Call it blind faith. It's only been three days since my "accident" but the clichéd phrase has taken on a new meaning already. Every time I reach my hand out, hoping to feel my way along a wall or railing, I don't know what awaits me. I second guess myself with every step forward, my mind riddled with doubt. But still I believe that something will always be there to catch me, to hold me, to guide me. And even after everything, I still hold onto hope that my mother will respond like any real mother would. That word: _Mother_. The day I tell her is also the day that my tenuous grip on it loosens; I let that name fall away from my fingers when I open my hand, and it doesn't make a sound when it hits the ground. The little voice in my head says: A real mother will trust you, believe you; she will fight for you. _

_Valerie does none of the above. (But you already knew that, right?)_

"_I know you're angry," is what she actually says, as we sit across from each other at the kitchen table, a pitcher of homemade lemonade sitting between us. The ice cubes clink against the glass when she pours me a cup. "What happened to you was horrible and you have to know that I feel _awful _about it." She does sound sincere. My fingers and thumb find their way around the glass after a few tries. I drink. "But you can't take it out on Trey," she continues. "It's not his fault." The woman doesn't have a maternal bone in her body. When I take another sip, a frozen cube rushing into my mouth like an ice floe adrift in a sugary sweet sea. I hold it there till it stings my tongue. The cold numbs this whole day in my memory so that later, when I think back on this moment, I won't feel a thing. _

_There is a part of me that threatens to snap at her last words: _It's not his fault_. But dutifully, I swallow the dull ache when it comes bubbling forth. It's all written down somewhere: our words and our actions no longer our own, just a script from hundreds of years ago. There are parts that we play: the child, the child molester, and the wife who picks the wrong side. I already know how this story ends._

_And here's the thing. Everybody has limits. Everybody has certain stories that they hear but won't dare believe, even when the truth is staring her straight in the face. Among the life lessons I learn today, this is the one that crushes me most, like I'm nothing more than aluminum can under the heel of her shoe. But this is what's different: people bounce back._

"_I guess this means you don't want to adopt me anymore, right?" I finally reply, stripping my voice of any emotion that might betray me. "I'm more trouble than I'm worth now. Who could blame you anyway?" I don't have to wait for her answer to know. Even if I haven't yet picked myself off the floor and physically left this house, my mind is already long gone. I don't know it at the time, but it's the one thing that's always swimming toward the light. I never thought that one day, that light would be Sunnyvale._

[ ]

"Lux?" The sudden voice and the knuckles rapping against the doorframe startled her, drowning her thoughts in the ocean of sound that swept through the speakers and over the Sunnyvale meeting room. Slowly, the present flooded back into her veins.

Lux took a deep breath. She hoped to get this whole counseling thing over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. "Mr. Daniels, right?"

"That's my name."

She held her hand out for the usual handshake as he approached the round table where she had been sitting, waiting.

He stood there for a second without taking it. It was an odd moment, but she had certainly experienced her fair share of those with strangers in the past. For that reason, she didn't immediately dwell on the way he paused in front of her, so close that she could hear him breathing underneath the sounds of water rushing onto the beach. Finally, he reached out and touched his palm to hers for barely a second, giving it the slightest of shakes. It was more a friendly slap than a proper handshake. "Nice to meet you." His voice wavered. But before Lux could wonder about this increasingly strange behavior, he hastily pulled a chair away from the table—she heard the legs scrape against the floor with a squeal—and sat down.

"So, Lux Cassidy." Mr. Daniels drew her name out the way a sports announcer might. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

Something about the familiar sound of his voice teased and tickled her brain, that same feeling she got when she knew she was so close to solving a math problem but couldn't quite figure it out yet. It gnawed at her insides in the most frustrating way.

"_Nothing?_" He sounded disappointed.

Lux remembered she was supposed to be answering his questions. "Haven't you read my file? What's the point?"

"Well, yes actually," he conceded, "I have. But—"

"So there isn't really anything else you need to know, now is there." The second the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Well, not really. But she knew she wasn't really being fair. Mr. Daniels seemed perfectly nice, just as Fern had said. Too nice, even. But she had already decided to make this difficult for him, and she wasn't going to back out now. "My whole life is in there, filtered into the confines of a single manila folder. Trust me, you're not missing much." She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. Why couldn't Tasha have just left it alone? If she was really so concerned, she wouldn't keep trying to force the issue.

"If you don't mind I'd like to hear who you are in your own words."

_Yes, in fact, I mind very much_, Lux thought, but sighed and cleared her throat loudly. "Fine." She sat up straighter in her chair. "Let's see, I never knew my birth parents. They didn't want me, obviously. I was born sixteen years ago with a hole in my heart, and spent most of my early childhood in hospitals. I hated them. The rest of my childhood I spent being bounced around so many shitty foster homes that I almost missed the operating tables. One time I think I actually wished I could just go back there because they might finally—" Lux didn't continue the thought after all, hurtling straight ahead in lieu of confessing the words that still felt like foreign objects in her mouth. She had never even let them get that far before. "Well, it doesn't matter why. I got my wish in the form of a fucking freak accident one night. I tripped over my own feet and fell down a flight of stairs. I had a stroke from a blood clot that formed because of my heart defect—boy, wasn't that the gift that kept on giving—and now I'm blind." She gestured in the general area of her face. "Obviously. Needless to say my placement with that family didn't last much longer, and I've been here ever since. Are you happy now?" She was breathless when she finished, the rhetorical question hanging in the air.

At first, Mr. Daniels gave no indication that he had heard her lengthy monologue. All that followed was a deafening silence.

"Unbelievable." Lux stood up so violently that the plastic chair clattered to the floor behind her. "I knew this was going to be a huge waste of time," she added, shaking her head, grabbing her jacket and stick from the table. "I just knew it. I'm outta here. You can tell Fern whatever you want to…"

"Lux, wait." She felt a hand reach out and envelope one of her own. "Please, just calm down for a second." He reached behind her to set the chair upright again and guided her toward it. She fought him for a moment before relenting and finally sitting down, defeated.

"To answer your question, no," he said after she was situated. "I know you've been through a lot. Of course hearing it from you doesn't make me _happy_, as you put it. But if we're going to make this work, those are the things I need to know, not just the laundry list of facts and statistics that are in this folder." He picked it up and dropped it to the table again to punctuate his statement. "Preferably with less sarcasm from here on out though?"

His other hand was still on hers. "I'm fine," she snapped, pulling away.

He dropped it, but not before she realized that he'd noticed her ring. "Wait, are you…married?"

"Yes." She sighed. "Well, no. Engaged." She shook her head and twisted the ring around her finger. "I know, it's weird. I'm young."

"It's not weird, " he assured her. "But—and forgive me for saying this to someone I've just met—you don't seem very sure it's what you want."

Of course, he was right. "It's…complicated."

"Listen, I don't know anything about marriage," he admitted. "But take it from someone who just got out of a relationship he never should've been in. Before you get yourself into something that might be hard to get out of, make sure you want to be there in the first place."

"You…make it sound so easy."

"Well, I didn't mean to. It's not."

She could sense that he wanted to her to elaborate, but the tension in the room had evaporated and she really didn't want to think about a potential wedding anymore. "Can we talk about something else now?"

"Sure, anything you want. That's why I'm here."

[ * ]

The silence that followed was awkward but comforting at the same time. For minutes, neither of them said a word, both suddenly hyperaware of their surroundings. In the corners of the room, fake waves crashed around them.

"They always play the same tracks in this room. 'Rainstorm,' 'Mountain Stream,' 'Night Life,' 'Ocean Waves'... It's supposed to be relaxing, I guess," Lux explained in an attempt to break the silence. "It's _supposed_ to be relaxing, but I don't know, personally I think this one has the opposite effect on me sometimes." Her fingers drummed the edge of the table nervously.

"Why?" His voice was filled with such genuine interest and concern that for a second, she nearly wanted to cry.

"It's just—I've lived in Portland all my life. It's a two-hour drive from the coastline. But I've never even seen the ocean, like really seen it. And now I never will." She laughed, a little bitterly. "It sounds silly…"

"No." He stopped her. "It doesn't."

She laughed again in response, partly to chase away any tears, partly not knowing what to say to next. "This is ironic, but it seems a little unnatural, doesn't it?"

"What?"

She gestured around them. "Recording it and playing it indoors. It's like trying to capture nature in a bottle. All it does is remind you that you don't have the real thing."

"We could turn it off if you want?" he offered. "I'm sure I could ask someone…"

She thought about it for a few seconds. There was something inviting about the sound today. Almost like it could be real. "No," she said finally, the corners of her mouth lifting in a ghost of a smile. "Leave it on."

[ * ]

Her face flushed hot because she could feel him staring at her, like she was some mystery he was trying to unravel. It should've been the other way around. She had deliberately left avoided her sunglasses today, hoping that seeing her eyes might intimidate him or make him uncomfortable. Now she wished she had at least tucked a pair into collar so they would at least be there in case. Now she felt naked and exposed without them. It was starting to make _her_ slightly uncomfortable.

Finally, Lux couldn't stand it anymore. "What? You know, it's not nice to stare at the blind girl."

"Nothing. You've been quiet for a while, and I was just trying to respect that." He paused. "And I wasn't staring."

"Whatever. To be perfectly honest, I was kind of enjoying our talk." As she said the words, Lux realized that they were true. She hated to admit it, but Fern had been right. There was something cathartic about talking to a complete stranger. "But are we almost out of time? What time _is_ it anyway?"

From across the table, she heard a cell phone open and then snap shut. "It's nearly four. We still have ten minutes or so."

"School lets out at four. That means these halls will be flooded soon."

"Does it bother you at all?" he asked curiously. "Not being in school with everyone else every day, I mean?"

Lux shrugged and kicked lazily at the table leg. "Not really. I always hated school anyway. I was never the best student. And I would always be changing schools when I was younger and kept getting placed into different homes. With a name like Lux, it wasn't difficult for the other kids to come up with choice nicknames to make life difficult for the new girl."

"Lux sucks?" he ventured.

She snorted. "Yeah, among other things."

"Well, I guess that explains your aversion to rhymes," he said after some thought.

Lux rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it explains a lot—" There it was again, that slight tickle at the surface of her brain. Once again, it came and went before she could really make sense of the feeling. But she sensed she was inching ever-so-slightly closer to the answer. "Wait, it explains my _what_ to _what_?"

"What?" He seemed to realize immediately that he'd made a mistake. "Sorry, ignore me. I just meant that…I was just talking to myself," he finished lamely.

She knew it was a lie but she didn't call him out on it immediately, although perhaps she should have. And if they hadn't been interrupted at that moment, she just might have. But the point is she didn't. Instead, she let it go, and it wasn't until later that week, when she was replacing a disc in her CD player, that Lux realized why the comment had caused her confusion—and why he had been so quick to take it back.

He exhaled audibly when Tasha breezed into the room without so much as a knock. "Lux, I need to talk to you," she said, the urgency in her voice cutting into Lux's thoughts and suspicions. "It's really important. Wait, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she added as an afterthought, as if she had just noticed that Lux wasn't alone in the room.

"No, it's fine." Mr. Daniels gathered his papers quickly. "We were just about done here anyway. We'll talk again next week, Lux?"

"Sure thing." Lux had to admit she was kind of looking forward to it already.

As soon as he had left the room, Tasha grabbed her arm excitedly. "So was that Mr. Daniels?" she hissed.

"That would be him." Lux hesitated, wondering is she should admit it or not: "He's actually not so bad after all."

"See?" Tasha was triumphant. "And I'm not gonna lie, he's kind of cute, too."

"Not that that makes much of a difference to me," Lux reminded her friend.

"Fine, I'm sorry," Tasha grumbled. "But he's still hot."

Lux sighed, exasperated. "Wasn't there something _really important_ you needed to tell me? Because if there isn't, you know, this conversation can just end right now."

"Oh right, that." Tasha's mood deflated considerably at the reminder of her news, as did Lux's mood, when she finally heard what it was. Of course, neither of them realized at the time that the reality of the situation was actually much worse than either was imagining.

* * *

A/N: I know, I actually updated! I'm as surprised as you are. To be perfectly honest, I've lost interest in this story (and the show) a little bit as the months have worn on. Judging by the general lack of updates on most LUX fics lately, I might not be the only one. So I have to ask: Is anyone still reading this? Do people want me to continue? Please do review, even if it's just to say, "I'm still reading." I plan to finish the story regardless, but unfortunately updates may be few and far between.

As always, many thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter. For those who are Lux/Eric fans, I hope you enjoyed this one. For those who are in it for Cate/Baze/Lux, more scenes are to come soon and I promise that all the characters and storylines will meet eventually. Thanks for your patience! Oh and one more thing: I made a desktop wallpaper to go with this story. I'm going to link it to my profile, so check there if you want to have a look. It's 1280x800.


	6. This is A Recording

"_I'm sorry but the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. This is a recording."_

- Automated Answering Service

6. This Is A Recording

The first time Bug kissed her, the two of them were at the park in the late afternoon. It was hot that day, a rarity in Portland; she remembered the sunlight burning on her face like a heated blanket, before it suddenly lifted away from her, disappearing as he leaned in and stepped between them. The next thing she knew, his lips were on hers. At first she'd been afraid she wouldn't want it the way she knew she was supposed to. She'd been afraid that the moment she felt Bug's hands on her she would only be able to feel _him_, taste _him_—the vise-like grip, the smoky breath, the stubble scratching against her cheek—all these things she had come to know all too well in the dark corners of night.

But no, it wasn't like that at all. In fact, it was just the opposite: it made her feel normal, like a regular girl sneaking a kiss with her boyfriend on the walk home after school. It made her forget, even for just a little while.

She may have lied. She may have told him afterwards that he was her first kiss. But really, as far as she was concerned, it was almost the truth. Those other times didn't count. "So, are you like, my boyfriend now?" she had asked him, standing outside Sunnyvale. She laughed a little, trying to play it off like the answer didn't matter to her, but somehow, someway, it did. It scared her that it mattered.

"That depends," he replied, and she could tell by the waver in his voice that he was nervous too, and that he didn't want to admit it either, "are you my girlfriend?" Relief spread through her as he smiled against her lips, knowing that they were on the same page.

Before long, he became her way of slipping away from reality, especially on those days when all she wanted was to make-believe that she had another life. Walking down the street hand-in-hand felt normal. Eating take-out and listening to the radio at his apartment felt normal. Making out on his bed felt normal too, except that neither of them had parents who might come home early or accidentally walk in on them—but part of feeling normal was not even thinking about that part. Their minds didn't even go there.

Recently though, she was finding that not even that could distract her. There were too many thoughts and emotions swirling through her head. It was like her life had been turned upside down again in the past week: Tasha was moving out and leaving her behind, Mr. Daniels was a total liar, and all the while she held Bug's ring close to her body where it stayed like a ticking bomb, an offer with an expiration date.

Bug hovered above her, his hips weighing against hers, but she felt like she wasn't even there. Finally, he rolled to the side, and the mattress rose for a second before dipping again. There he lay beside her, breathing heavily, his fingers skimming lightly up and down her arm.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Lux shook her head, not wanting to get into it right now. "Nothing, I'm just not in the mood today." She bit her lip. "Okay?"

His hand stopped as it loosely held hers; he circled her palm softly with his thumb. They were silent for a moment. Then she heard him say, "You're not wearing your ring."

She stiffened slightly. He said it like he was describing the weather, like it was just some offhand comment that did matter one way or the other; it didn't sound like an accusation. He didn't seem angry or hurt. But he didn't say anything more after that. She lifted her hands to readjust her shirt. "Bug…"

"Do you not want to be with me anymore, is that it?" Still, his voice remained stoic and hard to read.

"No, that's not it." Lux sighed, reaching into the small zippered pocket of her old jeans until her fingers closed around the ring. And she withdrew it, wondering how to explain so he would understand. "It's just…I mean, I don't think I'm ready…" She tried to press the ring back into his palm.

"What does that even mean?" And then she could hear it in his voice. He was on edge, he was trying not to get angry but inevitably he would snap if they kept traveling down this line. That was the thing about Bug. He could be the sweetest, gentlest guy to her, but he had a short fuse like his father's. Some cycles were hard to break. Most cycles were, if she were basing her conclusions on personal experience. "If you want to date other people, just say so." He spit out the words like a mouthful of needles, all aimed in her direction.

"What?" She turned sharply left, angling her body so it was facing his. "No, all I mean is I'm not ready to even _think_ about marriage. I'm sixteen years old!"

"You said yes to me just last month," he reminded her. "Didn't you?"

"You put me on the spot, you _know_ that. I told you I needed time…do you even listen to me anymore?"

"Okay, you know what, don't you dare make me out to be the bad guy, because you know I care about you, you know I was only doing it for you…"

"No you weren't!" She rolled away from him again. "You and Tasha had this idea in your head of what was best for me, and you didn't bother to think that I might feel differently…"

"Do you think…" he began, running his bare leg against hers until the hairs made her skin crawl, "…do you think that anyone else is going to want you, or love you like I do?" He whispered it softly, lips right next to her ear: "You and me, we're the same, right? We belong together. I thought we agreed."

There was a time when she had believed that. They'd grown up with similar childhoods: abandoned by their mothers at an early age, used and abused by father figures who didn't care what damage they left behind. Neither had shared the details of their past with the other—they didn't have to. She used to think that made them two of a kind, "the same" as Bug put it. But things were different now. "We're not the same," she said, sitting up in bed and putting her feet on the floor. "And even if we were, that doesn't give you the right to claim me like I'm some piece of property—"

"Lux," he paused, "hey, I didn't mean it like that, can you just calm down?" He reached out to touch her shoulder from behind but she pushed his hand away.

"You asked me an impossible question that no normal sixteen-year-old should have to answer." She was on the verge of tears but swallowed them and went on. "And it wasn't fair to put me on the spot like that—"

"Normal?" Bug interrupted, incredulous. "When are you finally going to understand that we're never going to be _normal_?" The frustration was evident in his voice. He spoke as if she were a child who couldn't grasp a simple concept. "What did you think, that you would live on _Nob Hill_ someday, and go to some fancy school with a bunch of spoiled little shits who shop at _Abercrombie & Fitch_ and get fancy cars from Mom and Dad on their sixteenth birthday? Is that what you thought? Give it up already, Lux! Things are never going to be like that for us!"

There was a silence as the timbre of his voice sunk into the hollow room. "I think you should take me back to Sunnyvale," Lux said, her voice shaky. She stood up, still facing away from the bed, and bent over as she tried to gather her things.

"Fine." He tossed some clothes across the bed, obviously trying to make as much noise as humanly possible to let her know that he was pissed as he struggled back into his pants: she heard the zipper as it closed, a button snapping shut.

As he led her out the door of his room, Gavin's voice called to them over the sound of the TV in the connecting room. "Bug, Lux! I was starting to wonder when the two of you were going to show up." He laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that only made Lux's blood boil. "Where's Tasha today, anyway?"

"She's at school," Lux shot back. "Which you would know, if you paid any attention to anything!" She punctuated that with a swift kick to the doorframe before the door slammed behind them on their way out. At the end of the hallway, they could still hear Gavin's laughter echoing through the thin walls.

[ ]

She'd been right of course. She wasn't the type of girl who liked—no, needed—to be right all of the damn time. In fact, most of the time she wished she were wrong, because being right usually meant that the proverbial, precarious house of cards was about to topple. Case in point: deep down she'd known that if she called off the engagement he would leave again. And this time, he would not look back. Which is exactly what happened.

When they were together, Bug sometimes mentioned how his mom had left the family when he was just a toddler, walking out the door one morning without telling them where she was headed. The only baggage she left was the kind that weighed on him every day growing up, the kind you couldn't see unless you knew where to look. And he always resented his mother for that; he always hated it when people left. But when it came down to it, he was a master of the sport, just like the rest of them. He was a hypocrite in that way. There were times when she wanted to call him on it, but she didn't because as much as it bothered her, she still understood it.

But none of that mattered now. He'd left, and maybe he would come back—in the past, he had disappeared and reappeared quite a few times. This time was different though. Lux was pretty sure that he had finally cut his ties from the city that reminded him of a childhood he could never completely open up about. Maybe it was what he needed: to begin again somewhere new. And Gavin? Well, he left too. The two guys cleaned out their apartment and sold all their furniture and electronics, taking off with only the clothing on their backs and a knapsack of cash and the barest minimum of possessions. That was another upside of growing up in foster care. You learned early on not to get attached, you didn't think twice about selling your prized belongings.

She tried to apologize to Tasha multiple times, even if she had started to think of Gavin as dead weight—Tasha deserved better than him, but her best friend didn't seem too heartbroken: "It's probably for the best. You know, he was cheating on me with some slut with a pink Mustang. Yeah, she dropped out of OU to become a tattoo model." Her voice remained unaffected: bored, or maybe just tired. Like she was half-asleep, dreaming. But then she seemed to wake up from whatever trance had consumed her; she shook Lux by the shoulders as if to wake her too. As if to say: _we have to move on_. "But I'm more concerned about you," she said, over and over. "I'm more concerned about you, how are you holding up?"

Lux thought she was doing pretty well—if you could call standing at the pay phone every morning hitting redial on Bug and Gavin's old number and listening to the same recording over and over—if you could call that doing well.

"I'm sorry. But the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected." The emotionless and robotic voice came through the receiver for what must've been the fifteenth time. "This is a recording," it continued in that same pleasant tone.

"As if I couldn't tell," Lux muttered under her breath, holding down the shiny silver lever to end the call, and immediately redialing.

"Hey," a less-than-pleasant voice mocked from behind her, "some of us have actual calls we need to make, you know."

Lux ignored her and continued to hold the receiver to her ear.

"What's the matter, Lux? You finally gone deaf too?" the voice taunted. Lux didn't recognize who it belonged to, but that was hardly surprising, as everyone coming into Sunnyvale came to recognize 'the blind girl' pretty quickly. "No wonder your boyfriend dumped you."

Lux could feel the anger rising again, but she held her tongue as the recording played again.

"Well, if you're deaf now then you definitely won't be needing this anymore." The girl, whoever she was, tried to grab the phone from Lux's hand.

"Go to hell," Lux whispered loudly, keeping a firm grip on the receiver. She tried to swat the girl's arm away.

"We _are_ in hell, sister, or have you forgotten?" There was a time when Lux and Tasha would jokingly refer to Sunnyvale as Sunnyhell, like a lot of the younger girls at the group home did. At some point, the regulars grew older and realized that there were worse places in the world, because they had managed to escape and somehow always ended up back here. No matter what, they could always count on it. "Though I can see how it might be easy when you're blind…" the girl continued.

"Seriously, how rude can you get? Let go of the phone!" Lux twisted around and pulled on the phone cord. "And don't call me your sister, I don't even know you."

"Oh, keep dreaming! You think you scare me?" The other girl refused to relinquish her grip on the receiver. "You've been standing here for ten minutes hitting redial and not saying a word. I have an actual call I need to make, bitch."

After a few solid minutes of tug-o-war, the phone ripped from the wall and fell to the floor with a crash. A woman came running down the hall and immediately began to reprimand them. Needless to say, they were both banned from using the telephone for the next month. "If there is an emergency, you may use the phone in the office, but this phone is off limits."

"Duh, it's broken anyway," the other girl pointed out petulantly. "Thanks to her," she couldn't help adding, shoving Lux in the shoulder.

"Thanks to me?" Lux couldn't believe that the girl was still trying to pick a fight.

"Now, now, girls," the woman said, breaking them apart. "You said it yourselves. The phone's broken, nothing to fight over now."

[ * ]

Lux went back to listening to the morning show on the radio. Admittedly, what used to bring her comfort now depressed her. There were annoyingly upbeat ads for the ever-nearing "Home for the Holidays" concert every half-hour, and all she could think about were the two tickets burning a hole in her wallet.

Tasha assured her that the two of them could go together, now that they were both single. "We need some quality time together now that I won't be living here anymore," she groaned remembering. "And Glass Candy must be amazing live. I would love to hear them."

Lux was silent.

"But if it's too hard for you, we don't have to," Tasha quickly amended. "I know those were supposed to be your engagement present."

"I don't want them to go to waste." Lux tried to smile. He was still in her thoughts constantly, with or without the concert. "Can't you just act like a brat during your meeting? Maybe they won't want you after all."

"I tried. They still said yes. I have no choice, Lux."

One morning in mid-October, Lux heard Cate Cassidy's announcement on Morning Madness: "Okay folks, as of today, we're exactly a month away from our annual 'Home for the Holidays' concert! That's right. You only have one more month to purchase tickets and they're going fast, so what're you waiting for?"

"Of course, we'll still be giving away tickets every day, and we're getting ready to do that right now," Ryan put in. "Hello, who's this? You're caller one hundred!"

"Are…are you serious? The lucky caller seemed unsure, his words reverberating in the background.

"Yes, I'm serious." Ryan chuckled. "You're on the air," he added, "can you please turn down your radio?"

"Uh, sure." The background noise died down.

"What's your name?"

There was a hesitation on the other line. "Um, Matthew…Math."

"Math, that's an interesting nickname!" Cate commented. "Is that what you do for a living?"

"No, I'm uh…I'm actually a high school English teacher," the Math said. "At Westmonte High?" Lux had heard of it. It the kind of school she and Tasha and Bug had always hated. The kids that went there were what Bug insisted they'd never be: normal.

"I used to go to Westmonte!" Cate exclaimed, then went silent without saying more. She seemed to regret speaking up.

"I know," Math said. "I mean, I went there, too. Class of '94."

"This morning is finally getting interesting!" Ryan crowed. "Someone who went to high school with Cate Cassidy! You know, she is very tight-lipped about those years. Maybe you could help shed some light—"

Cate cleared her throat loudly, interrupting her co-anchor. "I really don't think that'll be necessary Ryan. Math, why don't you hang on the line so we can get your info, but we have to take a commercial break now."

The show suddenly cut off as an old commercial for a tanning salon came on instead. Lux wondered what that had been about. Admittedly, she had also been curious to hear more about Cate's past. It was strange sometimes, listening to someone on the radio every morning for years, imagining that you knew her when you really did not. At the same time, knowing too much could ruin the mystery.

[ ]

"Well, I guess this is it," Tasha whispered. They were lying in bed after midnight, side by side, almost like old times. "Our last night. I leave first thing tomorrow morning."

Neither of them said anything for a while. There was really nothing to say at this point, and the two of them had been ripped apart so many times since they'd become best friends. These days they were almost used to it. Of course, that didn't make it any less difficult.

"Hey, at least I'm less than thirty minutes away this time." Lux knew that Tasha was making a feeble attempt to cheer both of them up. "I mean, we've had worse." Truth be told, it wasn't really working.

"I know," was all Lux could manage. The truth was, she was still trying not to think about it. Tasha had met with her new foster parents the day before, but Lux hadn't wanted to talk about it afterwards. Talking about it made it too real. She was trying to listen with only half her brain, letting her friend's words trickle into her ear haphazardly, then trickle back out. But what Tasha said next was hard to escape.

"And Valerie—that's the woman's name—she actually seems really nice."

Lux froze at the name. It was a common name, but to this day, just hearing it made her legs go numb.

"Although we both know they always start out nice," Tasha allowed. "But I have a good feeling about this one." She paused. "The husband didn't say much, but I got the feeling he isn't home much anyway. I think he's a construction worker; he came in with a hard hat and a tool belt."

Lux was glad that no one could see the expression on her face in the darkness. "He's a construction worker?" she asked, aware that her voice was wavering. She cleared her throat. The lump that had lodged there only seemed to grow bigger.

"I guess." Tasha didn't seem too sure. She sounded tired, and therefore completely unaware of Lux's discomfort. "He had one of those overly macho names, like Trent or Troy or…"

Lux swallowed. "…Trey?" She was afraid to say it, she wanted to bury it and pretend it wasn't happening because really, what were the chances? In over three years, she rarely even said his name in her head. He didn't deserve a name. But a part of her had to know. In her head, she silently pleaded for it not to be true.

"Trey…that's sounds like it might be right." Tasha still wasn't sure. "Anyway, they seemed alright. Hey, maybe they'll even let you come visit! They mentioned not having any other kids right now."

"That would be nice," Lux said, faking a yawn. "Anyway, I'm beat. We can talk about it in the morning."

She had a feeling she wouldn't be sleeping before then.

* * *

A/N: First of all, I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I really appreciate the support, and there are at least 10 people still reading (possibly less now, after I took so long to update, sorry!) so I'm trying my best to get through it. This past summer has been really crazy. I've moved twice since I last updated, and now I'm about to start school again in a strange city. (Literally, my first class is in 3 hours!) Secondly, I have to apologize for this chapter. I didn't have time to really proofread it because I wanted to get it out before the semester began. There are probably some typos and clarity issues; I'll edit them if/when I find them. The next chapter may be a very long wait depending on how busy I get, but I promise that I'm committed to finishing it eventually. The good news is we're about halfway through now! Thanks again for staying with it all this time!


	7. Speak

_The tears dissolve the last block of ice in my throat.  
I feel the frozen stillness melt down through the inside of me, dripping shards of ice that vanish in a puddle of sunlight on the stained floor.  
Words float up._  
- Laurie Halse Anderson

**7. Speak**

"_There are a lot of things you're going to want to push the rewind button on," they tell me, and my natural instinct is to respond with sarcasm: _The rewind button? You think?, _but instead I bite my bottom lip and listen. "There are a lot of things you're going to have completely relearn, a lot of basic things you used to take for granted." Listening is one of those things. I never realized how much of the world I missed out on when I could see, those little sounds that used to just be background noise to me but now they are everything. "It won't be easy," they say, as if they weren't stating the obvious, "in fact, I can guarantee you it'll be frustrating. Most likely, you'll be angry for a long while. But we can get you through it. We can help you rewind. And we can help you get back to a place where you can press play again." _

_There are a lot of things I want to say in response, if I wanted to be total bitch, if I wanted I take my anger out on the people I know are trying to help. Like,_ enough with your shitty remote control analogy already!_ Don't they know you don't say things like that to a foster child? The only thing we want to rewind is our whole lives—and maybe this time when we press play and "do it over" we would finally luck out and get the perfect family from the sitcoms on TV, live in the nice house with the winding staircase and matching furniture, and be the kind of girls who even dared to dream of dating the star quarterback in high school. But I don't say it. I don't do anything but nod. I don't do anything but try to move on. It's the only thing I _can_ do._

_Before I leave Valerie's house, I find something I wasn't expecting to find—a jagged piece of textured ceramic about the size of a golf ball. I discover it under my bed as I run my hand along the wooden floor under the skirt, making sure I haven't missed anything I'll need. I can't think of anything worse than having to come back later and retrieve a forgotten item. It takes me a few seconds to realize what it is and where it came from: a fragment of Valerie's birthday present to me, her "house of light." It must've broken off and bounced under the bed when the lamp hit the floor. Whoever cleaned up the mess and swept away the evidence must've missed it completely. Without thinking, I close my fingers around the fractured piece and slip it into the hollows of my bag just before they come in to whisk me away. "All set, Lux?" they ask, their voices bright and cheerful. And I withdraw my hand and say yes, I'm set, I'm ready. Valerie stands in the background, almost as if she's behind a barricade, at the edges of it all. Even though she says nothing, I can feel her presence. It isn't until I walk out the door that she relinquishes her grip on me. As far as I'm concerned, she no longer exists. And needless to say, I don't look back._

_When I return to Sunnyvale, it's different from all the times before. First of all, I've never been away for so long and things have inevitably changed in the interim: new rules that I'll have to learn, new layouts that I'll have to get used to. Secondly, and most importantly, I no longer have the capacity to experience it the way I used to. In some ways, I hardly recognize the place. My hand runs along the walls when I step in the building, fingers brushing against the chipped wood and uneven paint, the graffiti messages etched with pencil points and fingernails, all the imperfections in the structure that I never paid much attention to in the past. Some part of me, somewhere in the back of my brain, remembers the oppressive air and the familiar smells and sounds of an ever-changing herd of untamable young girls, but it all feels heightened now, magnified by two or three or four. _

_For the first time, they assign me to one of the good rooms. It's located in the back corner of the building, near the bathroom and cafeteria, but far enough from all the noise that I have some peace and quiet. As soon as all the introductions have been made and they leave me alone, I let the mattress and pillow of my new bed envelope me like the arms of an old friend. _

_I don't find _it_ until days later, while reaching into the secret interior pocket of my duffel bag. My fingers search out a wad of cash along with the stolen piece of ceramic lamp. The bills are rolled into a thick bundle and secured with a rubber band. I hold it in my hand for what feels like a century, uncomprehending. My heart sinks when I realize where it must've come from, that Valerie must've put it there to shut me up, to make sure I don't tell anyone else the story that I told her. It occurs to me that maybe she believed me after all, and it just wasn't enough. Somehow that's what hurts the most. Once more I think of that game Tasha and me used to play when we were kids. I think, what's worse, when the woman who was going to adopt you doesn't even believe you, or when she does, and she still takes _his_ side? I'm almost glad that Tasha is living at her mother's right now and we haven't been talking much lately. I wouldn't know what to say to her._

[ * ]

"So are you finally going to tell me what's been on your mind these past few weeks?" Mr. Daniels asked, slight exasperation worming its way into his words. Lux could tell that he was starting to get tired of perpetually coaxing information from her well-guarded lips. Well, too damn bad. He would have to deal with it until he apologized for leading her to believe that he was someone else. It was just plain rude to take advantage of someone like that.

It was their third meeting since Lux had learned that Tasha would be leaving Sunnyvale, and their second meeting since Lux had learned where Tasha would be going. If he noticed she was no longer wearing Bug's ring, he said nothing about the change. In return, she said almost nothing at all. "I'll wait however long it takes for you to be ready," he said. "I will. But we can probably both agree that this isn't the best use of our time, so—"

"I don't trust you." Lux spoke suddenly, lifting her head up and squaring her jaw in defiance.

"And I don't expect you to right away, just like that." She could tell that her sudden speech had startled him. He searched for the right words to respond to her. "I know how hard it must be for you—"

"No." She let her hands rest of the table, palms down, as she sat up straighter in her chair. "Here's the thing, Mr. Daniels. You _don't know_. Those are the kind of things the girls who live here hate hearing: 'I know' or 'we can probably both agree,'" she lowered her voice one or two registers to mock his patronizing tone. "You don't know that. You can't know that. If you want to keep working here and getting through to these girls, the first thing you should do is stop putting words in our mouths. And another thing, maybe I do think this is the best use of our time. I'm sitting here, just thinking about my life and how I wish I could do it over, which is what I would be doing anyway if you weren't here. And you're getting paid to sit here with me for an hour each week, aren't you?" She paused, though not expecting an answer to her rhetorical question. "Well, now you're not even doing any work and the money's still coming in. Sounds like a win-win to me."

"Lux, I don't care about the money." And goddammit if he didn't sound so sincere when he said that. It made her want to trust him, the same way it had that hot summer morning when he had unexpectedly walked into her life as she sat on the porch drinking in the sun rays. "And I don't even think of it as work," he insisted. "Not with you, not with any of those girls. I want to help you."

Lux pressed her lips together so hard she was afraid they would bruise. She didn't know what she was trying to fend off, laughter or tears. "You want to help me," she repeated, nodding. "You know, I've heard that a lot in my life. It doesn't really mean anything to me anymore."

There was a short silence, during which she could only hear him breathing as he tapped his pen against the tabletop. "At this point, I don't know what to do or say that will make you believe that I mean every word I say in here," he said finally. "You've been through a lot—I get that. But somewhere along the line you have to realize that not every new person you meet is out to hurt you. Have a little faith in people. Some of us just want to get to know you better."

Lux thought back to her early years at Sunnyvale when she would get new placements at new foster homes and refuse to leave because she was forever waiting for the birth parents that never materialized. Then she thought back to that afternoon three years ago, sitting at the kitchen table with Valerie, a pitcher of lemonade between them. She had really and truly thought that Valerie would believe her and that things would get better, despite all the evidence to the contrary. It wasn't naïveté so much as it was her faith in a mother figure who had promised her a home. She had wanted to believe in that so badly. "The last time I had faith in someone," she said slowly, drawing out the words and letting them fill the air, "she broke my heart." Lux hadn't meant to admit that to him, but the sentence was out before she knew it. "And now my best friend—" she exhaled, trying to regain control of her emotions, "—she's the one you met that other time—my best friend just got a new placement, so she's moved out of Sunnyvale and I don't know what to do."

"You miss her."

"No—well, yeah of course I miss her but—it's more than that." She tried to stop the words from coming out; her brain was screaming _shut the fuck up, stop telling him things_, but her mouth wasn't cooperating. "I found out where she's staying, and I just…I don't want her there."

The room seemed to go still at those words. Miraculously there was no nature soundtrack playing from the speakers in the meeting room today, just the steady rhythm of actual rain beating against the window.

When he spoke again, his voice was gentle but urgent. "Why, Lux?"

She shook her head. _Rewind. Rewind._ "I don't know why I said that, I shouldn't have said that." Silently, she berated herself for letting him draw the words from her throat, from deep within the place where she'd buried them. This was not supposed to be happening

"I think you know why you said it," he said softly. "Lux, should I be worried? Is your friend in trouble?"

"No." She sealed her mouth in a firm line. "It's like you said. I just miss her and I want her back here. I thought maybe if we were to spray paint their house they would kick her out, but—"

"Lux," he pressed, "if you know something about the family she's staying with, something that the case workers don't, then that's not enough. You have to talk to someone about this."

She shook her head. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Lux, listen to me." He leaned in closer until she could feel his warm breath hitting her face in short, insistent puffs as he spoke. "I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you, though looking at the way you're reacting right now, I would say it's likely very difficult, and I'm sorry for that, I am, but it's not just about you now. And it's not just about your friend. You realize that, right?"

Lux felt herself shut down the moment he said _your friend_. Hearing those words, it seemed, was the final straw. She kept replaying scenes from the past in her head, but instead of seeing herself lying in the darkness, watching that strip of light under her bedroom door, she saw Tasha in her place. It wasn't that Lux was really worried about her; Tasha had encountered her share of sleazy foster dads in her own history and could probably hold her own, but that didn't make it any easier to think about. "You said we didn't have to talk about anything I wasn't comfortable talking about, and I said I don't want to talk about it." Her voice was emotionless.

There was a long silence during which Mr. Daniels seemed to be debating whether to drop the subject or not. She held her breath until he spoke again. "Fine," he said, "we'll talk about something else then. When we first met, I asked you to tell me your life story in your own words. Do you remember that?"

_Oh, but that wasn't the first time we met, was it, Mr. Eric Daniels?_, Lux thought, but she didn't say it out loud. She nodded, as she knew he expected her to.

He continued, "you were telling me about the night you had your stroke and lost your vision, and you sounded really angry. And at the time, I thought it was because you were mad at yourself for tripping over your own feet like you said, for causing a freak accident that ended up having such a permanent and devastating effect on your future. Now I'm not so sure. Is there more to that story? Are you mad at yourself for something else?"

She sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She was surprised when he let it go. But his next words were baffling. "Lux, have you ever read a novel called _Speak_? It's by a woman named Laurie Halse Anderson."

The title didn't ring a bell, though admittedly she hadn't given it much thought. She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"They assign it for all the eighth graders at the junior high where I teach. It's about a fourteen year old girl who calls the cops on this end-of-the-summer party, and when schools starts back up again everyone shuns her, and she can't bring herself to tell anyone what happened to her at that party, the real reason she dialed 911."

"I'm sorry but I don't see what this has to do with anything." She really didn't, although she was definitely getting an uneasy feeling about the direction of this conversation. She wished she knew what to say to steer it into a more comfortable place.

"It isn't until the end of the book that she finally admits out loud to herself, and the people around her who really care about her, that she was raped." He seemed to be letting each word escape his mouth one by one, searching for an involuntary bodily reaction from her. Well he wasn't going to get one.

"I wasn't raped." Too late, Lux realized how defensive her quick response sounded. "I wasn't." Somehow repeating it made it sound even worse. She closed her mouth.

"I wasn't trying to say that." She could tell that he was regarding her carefully. Suddenly she was pissed off at him, even more so than before. How dare he come here and assume he knew everything about her? He barely knew her. He barely knew anything about anything.

When she opened her mouth again, the words came fast. "Well then I don't know what you _were_ trying to say but since we seem to be sharing our favorite works of literature and all, have you ever read this delightful rhyming book called _Hunches in Bunches_? It's by a man named Dr. Seuss, I highly recommend it."

Outside, the rain came down harder and faster. But she could still hear him exhale from across the table. "You know. How long have you known?"

"Of course I know!" Once again, she was livid. "What exactly did you think, that because I'm blind, I would never figure it out? Guess what, I knew from the second you opened your mouth that I'd heard your voice before. Yeah it wasn't until you completely gave yourself away with all that 'Lux Sucks' bullshit that it finally hit me, but if you were hoping to keep it a secret you were doomed from the very start. The sad thing is I trusted you the moment I met you, that was my first instinct, there was just something about you, but …" She shook her head. "Tell me something, Mr. Daniels. Were you ever going to say anything? Or were you just going to sit there, week in and week out, and pretend we'd never met, that you were somebody completely new?

"Wait, is this why you've been acting so strangely?"

Out of all the things to say, she couldn't believe he'd said that. "Is that really the best you can come up with?"

"Lux, honestly, I didn't think it was a big deal—"

"Of course it's a big deal! Put yourself in my shoes." Lux said it with an edge to her voice, like it was a dare. "I can't see you, did you ever think about what that means? I mean, _really _think about it? I can't see you. I have no idea what you look like. And you, like most people, can look at someone and rifle through your memory bank, just like that," she snapped her fingers, "to figure out if you've met them before. I can't do that. I have to rely on other means, other tricks, but sometimes it's not enough, I doubt myself—"

"You're right, I made a mistake introducing myself to you the way I did the first time, and I made a mistake trying to hide it instead of owning up to it," he sighed. "I should've known better, I'm sorry." It seemed he wanted to say more, but she listened and nothing else came.

"I don't want your apologies," she said with resignation. "I just want…the truth."

"And that's all you'll be getting from me from now on," he promised. "On one condition. And I'm serious about this." His voice was stern.

"What's that?"

"That you do me the same favor. No more lies, no more avoiding the issue. We all have to face our pasts, no matter how badly we want to leave them behind. I know you can do it, Lux."

She swallowed. "Fine."

"Shake on it?" And this time he offered his hand out for her to take. Reluctantly, she held hers out as well, until inch by inch they found each other at the center of the table. Like the first time they had met, that very first time, she was again struck by the softness of his palm, how pristine and youthful his skin seemed. But she knew that most scars only occur beneath the surface. In reality, reading the texture of a person's hands was just an old habit of hers, a triviality that in the end revealed virtually nothing.

They both held on for perhaps a second too long, not wanting to shatter the moment.

After he pulled away, he said softly, "Have you ever tried finding your birth parents, Lux?"

She shook her head. They had abandoned her, they should be the ones to come and find her if they really wanted to. Clearly they didn't. And after her thirteenth birthday? It didn't even matter anymore. She didn't want to see them. She didn't even want to think about them.

"I think you might benefit from talking to them," he told her. "Maybe not now if it's too much, but someday. The sooner the better." He paused with uncertainty. "We're out of time for today, and technically I'm not authorized to do this, but I have both their names and addresses from your file. Here's what I'm going to do: I'm jotting down their info on this slip of paper," he said, and underneath the continuing rainstorm outside she could hear the sound of a ball-point pen scratching across the surface of the table, "and whenever you're ready, you can come to me, or somebody you trust, and I'm sure they'll be willing to go with you and support you, as I do." He slid the paper across the table in her direction, and stood to leave. "Take care, Lux. I hope I can earn back your trust someday. I know it won't be easy, but I'll do whatever it takes."

When he walked past her towards the door, the smell of his aftershave permeated the air around her for a fleeting moment, and she breathed it in, her fingers skimming across the paper with torn edges that he had left sitting in front of her, open and unguarded. With his pen, he had pressed into the paper hard enough for his words to leave an impression on the page, hard enough for her to brush her fingers along the surface and read the names that were written there.

* * *

A/N: I know it's been forever, but I'd just like to say that I'm still here and I'm still writing. Once again, many thanks go out to all the people who continue to read these chapters, however far apart they occur, to the people who continue to encourage me with all their kind words and reviews, and especially to those who are just now discovering this story for the first time.

I won't lie; this story is a challenge to write. That's why I started it in the first place, because I love challenges. I'm a visual person by nature, and typically my stories are littered with images, which is something I've been criticized for in the past. I thought that writing a blind protagonist would force myself to pay more attention to my other senses. Overall, I think it has, but as I said, it's a challenge. The other challenge is of course that I'm back in school. Last fall was pretty crazy (but very fulfilling), and next spring will likely be even crazier, but somehow I'll work this out.

The next few chapters are when all the disparate parts of this story really start to come to a head, so I hope the wait will be shorter than the last, and I hope that when it happens you'll still be along for the ride. Until next time. :)


	8. Today Will Be Better, I Swear

A/N: This one goes out to everyone who is still a LUX fan, who is still reading this story and waiting for updates. Thank you for being patient with me. I have been insanely busy this year, but every so often I still get a e-mail in my inbox telling me that someone new has favorited this story or put it on their alerts, and it always puts a smile on my face. I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next two are ones I've been looking forward to writing for a while so hopefully I'll get to them this summer. (And if any readers of my in progress Gossip Girl fic are reading this, that story has been put on hold for now. I'm pretty much heartbroken when it comes to GG right now, so yeah, I apologize.)

* * *

_Old pale memories of someone you knew  
Keep crawling through the back of your mind_

_And the closet's been shaken with bones  
Little reminders that you're out on your own_

- Stars

**8. Today Will Be Better, I Swear**

Lux kept the slip of paper tucked in her pocket like a good luck charm for days afterwards, only pulling it out every so often to run her fingertips along the texture of the torn edges. Paper was the opposite of ceramic, or glass: unexpected in the way that it softened at each haphazard tear, as opposed to the straight, precise edges of pre-cut sheets that would slice through your skin if you weren't careful. Ceramic, on the other hand, became more dangerous with each sharp, jagged break.

She decided early on that she would start with the first name that Mr. Daniels had written down, the one at the top left corner. To be honest, she never allowed herself to read past that space, saving her mother's name for later the way you might hoard the last cookie in the jar, unable to face the inevitable emptiness that followed. There were times when she wanted to throw the paper away entirely. In fact, her fingers hovered above the wastebasket more than a few times, but in the end she couldn't go through with it.

A part of her wanted them to see her, standing there in front of them, in the flesh. She had resisted it for so long, but it didn't seem fair that she carried the baggage around with her every day for years while they lived their lives, oblivious to it all. Another part of her knew that it would be opening up old wounds that should probably stay closed. Maybe there was some good that could come of them meeting, but inside that good there was so much bad, too. They must've had their reasons for giving her up, but that nasty streak that constantly lived inside her was back, the one that made her want to stand in front of them and ask, "Was it worth it? Can you look at me now and say honestly that you would do it all over again?" She wanted to hurt them like they had hurt her. Childish, she knew. It wouldn't solve anything or erase anything that had happened. It wouldn't allow her to see again.

But she was starting to get it now, really get it. That life was a series of dominoes, balanced on their most precarious edges, set up in a random, arbitrary configuration. They fell depending on the angle at which the first one was knocked over. And once that one was down, you could only watch in horror as nature took its course and the inevitable followed. The world just kept pushing at you from all different sides, kicking pieces of you one way and then scattering other parts in the opposite direction. Often there was no rhyme or reason to it, but sometimes, the impossible happened: you could take the reins and make choices that would nudge the dominoes into a certain pattern, a certain toppled conclusion.

So.

Lux held the thin piece of paper to her chest until she could hear her heart beating through it. _Nathaniel Bazile, whoever you might be: the faceless man who gave me half my DNA, hidden somewhere behind those two names, two proper nouns. Are you ready? You're about to meet the daughter you forgot you had._ She took a deep breath and stepped out the door. Her walking stick skimmed the surface of the ground, back and forth, back and forth, the same regular rhythm as the organ that thumped wildly inside her chest, betraying her nerves.

[ * ]

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Lux hesitated at the top of the driveway, her fingers brushing the handle of the truck door. But not just any truck. No.

Tasha slammed the door to the driver's seat shut, put the key in the ignition, and rolled down the window so that she could yell outside to her friend. "Come on Lux, I told you, he carpooled with one of his construction buddies today. He won't be back for like five more hours."

Still, Lux didn't move. Couldn't. "But," she said, and she wasn't sure how to continue that thought. "But won't he—"

"And I'll fill the tank again when we get back," Tasha added. "I'm a pro at this, remember? Relax. He's not going to find out. Now do you want to meet this Nathaniel _Bazile_ guy or what?"

Lux nodded.

"Then get in!" Tasha started the engine.

Reluctantly, Lux opened the door and slid into the passenger's seat. She could tell immediately that it was still the same truck Trey had driven three years ago. That same smell (greasy hamburger wrappers and a tinge of cheap pot), those same seats (threadbare and thin but somehow still soft), and how could she forget—the seat belt that tied her down, always held her in place. She had been here before. Too many times to count. It's enough to make her want to hurl.

"You okay?"

Lux could hear the concern in Tasha's voice, and she swallowed, nodding in response. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just been a long time since I've been in a car like this, that's all."

For a few seconds, Tasha didn't reply. But then she seemed to shake off whatever was holding her back. "Alrighty then, let's get out of here." And with that, she put the car into reverse and stepped on the gas.

As they peeled away from the driveway, Lux let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. They were one step closer now. One step closer to what exactly? Well, _that_ she still didn't quite know.

[ * ]

The seat belt strap ran diagonally across her chest like a beauty pageant sash, but it pushed against her, heavy as weights. She kept tugging it away from her body, readjusting it, hoping to find a more comfortable position in the seat, but it wasn't working and finally she gave up trying. The afternoon sun was on her face. She held up an open hand to shield herself from the burning rays, aware of how the gesture felt strangely similar to a wave. Like she was saying hello to whatever waited for her on the other side. Or maybe it was more like a goodbye to the rest of it.

As they drove, she kept hearing Eric's voice in her head: _It's not just about you now, and it's not just about your friend. You realize that right? _And Lux shook her head from side to side, trying to shake the words out so she didn't have to hear them anymore. She tried to empty her mind, turn it off, let the car take her wherever the road led them.

[ * ]

Back at Valerie's, Tasha had mapped out the route to Nathaniel Bazile's place. "Okay, I think I can get us there," she'd said, clicking through Google Maps while Lux stood restlessly behind her, hoping that no one in the neighborhood would recognize her. "Piece of cake." Now, she reached her hand out to Lux. "Almost there. What's the street number again? Let me just see that paper…"

Lux hadn't realized she was clutching the slip of paper so tightly in her palm, balled up and damp with sweat inside her fist. "No!" The possessive reaction surprised even her. Slowly, she relaxed her grip, but still she did not hand the paper to Tasha. "You're driving, Tash, you should really keep your eyes on the road. I have it memorized anyway." she said recited the number for her friend. As she repeated it out loud, she realized how familiar the sequence of numbers sounded, like she had seen it before, or heard it somewhere at least. But where? Unfortunately, she didn't have much time to dwell on that train of thought before she was interrupted.

"We're close!" Tasha proclaimed triumphantly, like they had been running a marathon and had almost reached the finish line. "Oh! Red light. Again." She slammed on the brakes, and Lux flew forward as the truck lurch to a stop. The seat belt held her in place. "This is the _longest_ red light ever." Tasha drummed her fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. "Ha, I know I say that every time we hit a red light, but this _really_ is the longest one, I mean seriously…wait a minute, I think I see it, I think I see the place! That's weird though, it looks like a—" Her sentence was cut off by a loud honk, and Tasha immediately responded by honking angrily in return. "Yeah, yeah, fuck you too, buddy," she yelled through the half-open window.

"Tasha!"

"What?" Tasha responded. "He flipped me off! You want me to just ignore it?"

"Yeah, maybe. You're in a _stolen car_," Lux reminded her in a loud whisper, "can you try not attracting so much attention?"

"I would be attracting more attention if I _didn't_ respond," Tasha countered, petulantly, and Lux knew she was pouting. "Besides, I didn't _steal_ this car, you know. We're just _borrowing_ it. And it's not like it belongs to a total stranger…"

"No, it doesn't," Lux muttered underneath her breath. "Though I almost wish it did because that would sure as hell be better than this."

"What was that?"

Lux sighed loudly. "Nevermind."

"What? Seriously, it's true. Who doesn't get all bitchy and vindictive when someone gives them the finger?" Tasha scoffed. "And we _are_ just borrowing the car. I told you he's not going to notice. Anyway, it doesn't matter because it looks like I got us here in one piece!" And with that, she put the car in park and killed the engine.

Lux rapped her knuckles loudly on the door of the building, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu while she did it. There was something familiar about the whole situation: the texture of the door and the way the sun slanted onto her face, the sounds of the cars rushing past on the adjacent road but especially the smell of coffee that wafted from the café across the street.

"Do you smell that?" she asked Tasha, as they waited for someone to open the door.

"What?"

"That smell," Lux said, "there's like a coffee place nearby or something, right?"

There was a pause as Tasha looked around. "I think it's a bookstore actually."

And with those words, that feeling expanded in her chest, grew larger: the déjà vu or whatever it was, that sense that she had been here before, standing right here in front of this building waiting for something to happen, but on another day under different circumstances, without knowing the full story of what lay beyond the door.

"Anyway, this can't be the place though," Tasha said, breaking the spell. "It's not even a house. Are you sure you gave me the right number, let me just see that paper for a sec—"

Before Lux could respond, the door swung open.

"Sorry for the wait, I was just—Oh, it's you again. The blind girl scout, right?" That familiar voice, booming from far above like it was emanating from speakers in the corner of the room. That voice. That nickname. That handshake.

Second by second, the pieces clicked together in her mind until she had reached the only available conclusion. Nathaniel Bazile = Baze. The whole thing made perfect sense, even if just for a fleeting moment. "I'm not a girl scout," she found herself saying, just as she had weeks before.

"Oh, right. You're Bobby's girl. You can tell your boyfriend thanks for the two week's notice by the way, that was really considerate of him. That's the last time I hire a kid with a GED and a spiderweb tattoo on his neck, just so you know."

"I'm not _Bobby's_ girl," she said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. "He's gone anyway."

"Oh yeah?" The man—Nathaniel, Baze, her father, whoever he was—sounded somewhat bemused by her indignation.

"Yeah. You want to know who I really am?" She took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never, no turning back now. "I'm your…I'm your daughter." And before she knew it, she had said it. It was out. She flashed him one of her rare smiles then, a quick, uncertain one but a smile nonetheless. She would've given anything to see his face right then. His expression (was he angry? surprised? happy?) or just what he looked like, whether she could see the places in his features that had been passed on to her own face. She wished she could see that. More than anything.

[ * ]

"Okay, one more time for the cheap seats," she repeated, pacing around the bar. She was beginning to lose her patience. Was her birth father really such an idiot that he couldn't grasp the concept of impregnating a woman and having a child? No wonder he had never come to find her. "You and someone had a kid. You gave up that kid. _I_ am that kid. And now for some reason I am here at your place—house, bar, whatever—trying to explain it to you instead of the other way around."

To her right, Tasha grabbed her wrist in an attempt to calm her down. "Lux, let me see that piece of paper. I'll give it back in a second, okay? Promise."

Reluctantly, Lux relinquished her good luck charm, torn paper edges and all. Suddenly, after coming all this way, she felt defeated. In a way, she felt cheated, because none of this was unfolding in the way she had pictured it. Everything was all wrong.

Beside her, she heard a sharp intake of breath from Tasha. "Lux," she whispered, nudging her friend, "have you read the rest of this?"

Lux shook her head. "I was saving it," she admitted, and all of a sudden she was aware of how stupid that sounded. "I was saving it. You know, for later."

"It says here that your mother is—"

Across the room, Baze seemed to have recovered. "Cate Cassidy, that's your mom," he said, before Tasha could finish her sentence.

"Wait, Cate Cassidy?" Lux's mouth was hanging open in disbelief. She was sure she had heard him wrong, or that he was joking. Or _something_. "Cate Cassidy. The one on the radio, from K100? That's my mother?" Sure, she had fantasized about it, but she knew the difference between reality and dreams.

Before she could wrap her mind around what she was being told, another male voice broke in, also familiar, just as incredulous: "Class of '94 Cate Cassidy? Cate Cassidy was _pregnant_ in high school?"

"Yes, she was."

"No. No." The voice seemed unable to accept that. "Cate Cassidy never would've slept with you. She was number one in the class. She had a perfect four-point-oh—"

"Okay, Math," Baze said, an edge to his voice, "you are really not helping here."

And the déjà vu feeling only widened inside her like a dark hole that swallowed everything in its vicinity. She was _thisclose_ to falling in. "Hold on, _you're_ Math?" Lux asked, turning in the direction of the voice. "_The_ Math, Westmonte High Math?"

"What, you go there too?" Math seemed to just realize that this was a possibility.

"No!" Lux yelled, louder than she had intended. "No, I don't. You know why? Because kids like me, we don't go to Westmonte!" She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "No. I heard you on the radio a few weeks ago. K100, actually. Let me ask you guys this—when did Portland shrink to the size of a _quarter_?" She could hardly believe that string of coincidences that had led her to this place in the last couple of months: "Bug getting a job at this bar of all places, Math winning tickets to _Home for the Holidays_ on air while I happened to be listening, Tasha being sent away to Valerie's. And now, Cate fucking Cassidy being my mother!" It was too much.

The room stilled. No one said anything but she could hear movement, breathing: the world outside still living on. She was just one kid. In the end, she was inconsequential. Her personal dramas could not actually stop time.

"Take me back to Sunnyvale, Tasha," she said quietly, and held out her hand for the familiar touch of her best friend's fingers. "I'm done here."

[ * ]

The two girls were silent as they drove back. Lux tried hard to avoid thinking about what had just transpired back at the bar. Meeting her father for the first time—or at least meeting her father for the second time and this time actually knowing who he was. Almost immediately, she regretted leaving so abruptly while Baze came to life and called out to her ("Wait, Lux…hold on a second…") as the door swung open and shut and she stepped outside again, the last of his words cut off before she could hear them. There was so much more that she had wanted to say, but recently so many life-alterating revelations had come hurtling toward her like rubber balls in gym class that all she could do was dodge them. Behind the wheel beside her, Tasha seemed uneasy, as if she were lost in her own world of thoughts and worries and concerns. Finally Lux spoke up. "Everything's fine, right?"

"Yeah, of course. You know I always got your back."

"No, I mean, you know, at…home." Lux said the last word with a wry smile. "With your new foster parents."

"Yeah, I told you, they're alright. Valerie's nice, even." Tasha activated the turn signal and the hollow ticking filled in the spaces between her words. "I've had worse." The truck swung wildly to the right as it rounded a sharp corner, but then it settled back into the lane, continuing straight forward.

"Good." Lux felt her limbs relax. She stretched her legs out in front of her and slouched in the seat. Maybe there was still time then. Maybe there was all the time in the world.

[ * ]

She was sitting in one of the common rooms at Sunnyvale a few days later when Tasha came storming in. She didn't even bother to greet Lux, or to sit down in one of the chairs next to her. She just dropped something on the table where it landed with a dull thud, loud and heavy, and then waited, clearly hoping for some kind of reaction from Lux.

"What's this?" Lux asked, cautiously. She untangled the headphones from around her hair.

"You tell me." Tasha was pissed; Lux could hear it in her voice. About what, she had no idea.

Lux reached out in front of her, felt the object with her fingertips. "It feels like a shoebox."

"Ding ding ding! Give the girl a prize!" Tasha's voice dripped with sarcasm. "But what's in the shoebox, Lux? 'Cause it ain't shoes."

Lux sighed in exasperation. "You know, you're going to have to help me out here because I'm not a mind reader. What the hell are you getting at?"

"Photographs, Lux!" Tasha practically yelled. "Photographs of you! And Valerie! Mother's Day cards, report cards from middle school, drawings with your signature on them! I found them on a shelf in the hall closet. Is there something you want to tell me, maybe?"

_Shit._ It took a while for the words to sink in. Lux couldn't believe Valerie still had a collection of that junk after all these years. What did that even mean about their relationship? Valerie hadn't been the type to leave clutter lying around the house. "Tash, I can explain, I just—"

"You lived with them before, didn't you? Is that where your accident happened?" Her voice softened slightly. "It is, isn't it? I was thinking about it on the way over here. The dates match up."

Lux didn't speak. Her fingertips ran along the worn edges of the cardboard box on the table in front of her. What kind of shoes used to be in that box? Were they ones that Lux had worn? Or were they Valerie's own? _Trey's_?

"You know," Tasha started, sounding contemplative, "back when we were at the bar, you were listing all these coincidences that had happened and you mentioned me getting sent Valerie's in the same breath. I thought you just meant that the timing was bad, but really it was because you had been there before. Why didn't you just say something?"

Tears welled in her eyes. She didn't want to do this now. She didn't want to do it ever, actually, but maybe there was no choice now. "I wanted to," she managed to choke out. "But I was afraid that—"

"Whoa, Lux." The anger was gone from Tasha's voice, replaced my genuine concern. "What's going on?" When Lux didn't answer, she took a step back. "I remember when you were first sent there, I was back at my mother's where she was being her usual wasted, train wreck self, and we weren't talking much. But you wrote me those letters and you sounded so happy. You went on and on about how Valerie was the best foster mom you'd ever had and how this time it was really different and she wanted to adopt you. Then, the next thing I knew you had tripped and fallen down the stairs, and suddenly that deal was off." Tasha narrated her thoughts out loud, slowly and deliberately, like a detective nearing the conclusion of an extraordinarily tough case.

Lux winced as her friend recounted that period of their lives. "Tasha, please, I'm begging you, leave it alone."

"What really happened, Lux? Why are you keeping it from me?" The questions came flying so quickly, that Lux barely heard them. Well, except for one: "Who are you trying to protect?"

She didn't know the answer to that one.

[ * ]

The knock on the doorframe of her shared bedroom at Sunnyvale sounded wholly familiar. Lux could always tell who it was by the volume of it, the space between each individual knock. "Come in."

"Some might call it fate, you know," Fern said, by way of greeting. Her heels, muffled by the carpet, barely made a sound as she walked over and sat down next to Lux. "When the pieces all fall together like that."

"What?"

"Coincidences," Fern explained. "Tasha told me what happened. That you met your birth father last week. That must've been difficult."

Lux scowled. "Tasha needs to stop telling you everything about me."

Fern's voice was kind. "She's worried. She cares about you. I know you understand that. You care about her too."

Lux sighed. "I do. You have no idea how much." It was true. She and Tasha had met, here at Sunnyvale, when they were just little kids. Back then the two of them had nobody else but each other. No matter how many bars she visited, how many birth fathers she met, or how many birth mothers she heard on the radio every morning, Tasha was her real family, a true friend, the one who was always there, physically present. She couldn't let her down. "That's why I have something to tell you."

Fern waited a few beats. Finally, when Lux said nothing, she continued: "Well, I'm always ready to listen, Lux. You know that."

"You won't believe me." It was what she had always been afraid of, especially after Valerie's own reaction years ago. People believed adults, not foster kids who pointed fingers and only made trouble.

"Oh, honey." Fern brushed the loose strands of hair out of Lux's face. It was something she was constantly doing. _I like being able to see you when we talk_, she said once. _How is that fair?_ Lux wondered, but bit her lip and didn't say anything. "Is it the truth, what you have to tell me?" Fern asked.

Lux didn't say anything in response, only gave the most imperceptible of nods.

That was enough for Fern. Sometimes Lux wondered how the woman could be so understanding all the time, so patient, so _good_. "Then of course I'll believe you."

Lux turned to face her case worker. "How will you know I'm not lying?"

Fern placed one hand on Lux's shoulder. "Don't you know by now? It's my job to know these things." With two fingers, she lifted Lux's chin ever so slightly so that it was level with her own, and though Lux couldn't see it, she felt Fern's eyes on her. "Try me," the woman sitting across from her said. "Try me."


End file.
